


Draco’s Redemption - a Drarry fic

by Stillwriting (Larryhasmyheart)



Category: Drarry - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anticipation, Courtroom Drama, Desire, Drarry, Emotional Sex, Feelings Realization, First Time Blow Jobs, Foot Fetish, Gentle Kissing, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Homophobic printed slur, Hope, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Draco mostly, POV Third Person, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Regret, Romance, Shyness, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 60,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larryhasmyheart/pseuds/Stillwriting
Summary: Post-war Draco, how he finds his redemption and his new relationship with Harry.Months after the Battle of Hogwarts and Draco was finally going to trial, with nothing but a public defender to represent him.  He had had many weeks in a holding cell to think about everything that had happened, and while he knew he deserved what he was about to get, he was sorry he would not get the chance to make up for all the things he had done.Worse, he would have to face a certain someone whose image had kept him awake many a night.  How was he going to endure it?  At least he would be able to see Potter in the flesh one last time before going to Azkaban.   There wasn't any other outcome to this scenario....was there?This is a a Drarry fic...I love Drarry a lot; but this is also the story of Draco’s redemption, how he overcomes his past, finds strength to change, and his journey and experiences in the muggle world  while on probation.  It’s also the story of Drarry, and the question is, how will they move forward?  Will they have to keep their relationship a secret?  This started as a Drabble, but has become much more, so I had to add to the summary.  Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Original Characters - Relationship
Comments: 64
Kudos: 95





	1. PRELUDE - One week before Draco's trial

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you for stopping by. This was initially meant to be a little drabble, but...it's turning out to be more! This work was inevitable, as I have been thinking about how this might go for some time since recently getting into Harry Potter, especially the dynamics between Harry and Draco. I love them both so much!
> 
> The HP characters all belong to JK Rowling, but this story is mine. I will be adjusting tags as chapters are added. Please forgive this muggle if you feel there are any inconsistencies with what the wizard court should look like. 
> 
> Please feel free to the leave comments or suggestions, and feel free to share! 🤗

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is a prelude in the lead up to the main story. This prelude is Harry POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am happy to finally have this chapter in its proper place so that it makes more sense! Happy reading! Oh, and because I had to move chapters around, comments under each chapter are now under a different chapter, sorry about that!

The evening had turned to night as Harry Potter reclined in his bed on several pillows under the dim light his overhead lamp afforded. In his hand he held a picture of the late professor Dumbledore and gazed at the image that swam before him, the long silver hair dancing slightly, the small smile of wisdom looking up at him. He wished he was there so could talk with him.

“Professor,” he spoke with quiet feeling, “I’m going to Draco Malfoy’s hearing tomorrow to speak on his behalf.” He stared at the photo, impossibly hoping the man would jump out of the picture. “I can’t let his case go to trial and risk his going to Azkaban prison…I just CAN’T.”

He rested his arm under his head and gazed up at the ceiling as his thoughts hovered around his motives and feelings. “And I can’t talk to Ron or Hermione about it…they would NEVER understand.”

He looked back at the picture and smiled slightly. “But I know YOU would understand, professor. I’m sure of it.”

The picture shifted slightly, the blue of Dumbledore’s eyes brightening and tiny sparks dancing around his head. Then, as Harry focused more intently, the Dumbledore in the image nodded his head and gave a small wink.

Harry sat straight up, his eyes widening in shock as he stared hard at the picture...but the photo had reverted to its previous state, and Harry wondered if he had imagined things.

A sharp rapping from the brass front-door knocker interrupted his thoughts. He ignored it, hoping Ron or Hermione would get it. Who could it be at this time of night? After a moment the knocking commenced, and Harry grumbled, setting aside the picture, and after grabbing his wand made his way down the hall. “I’m coming!” he called, as it continued insistently. 

He looked through the peep hole to see an unfamiliar yet official-looking figure at the door. "Who is it?" He called.

"The law offices of Henderson and Associates."

He opened the door and stared back at a stranger whose dark eyes bore down into his own. The man was dressed in long ornate robes, and Harry recognized the fabric on his lapel that indicated he was from some legal department. On his head of dark hair, graying at the temples, sat a flat, green hat. In his hand he held a long, yellow envelope.

“I’m looking for Mr. Harry Potter.”

A little finger of foreboding rose up in Harry as he answered guardedly, “I’m…Harry Potter.”

The man extended the envelope and stated, “Mr. Potter, you are hereby summoned to testify for the prosecution in the case of the Hogwarts’ School and Ministry of Magic vs. Draco Malfoy. You will attend a deposition in three-day’s time, the details of which are included in this summons.”

“What? No…” Harry responded, shocked, and felt himself start to shake.

“This is a summons, Mr. Potter. You have no choice.”

“But Malfoy hasn’t even had his hearing yet!”

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly. “In the event that Mr. Malfoy’s hearing goes against him,” he paused, his eyes darkening, “we want to be prepared to move as quickly as possible.” He pointed the envelope into Harry’s chest, who grabbed it angrily and glared back him. The man responded with a curt nod, and disappeared into the night.

Harry slipped his wand in his pocket and stood shaking uncontrollably; he wanted to rip it to shreds, but knew he could not. The seal was official. Fiercely tearing it open, he let the envelope fall to the floor and began to read.

“No!” He cried in anger at the details of where to meet for the deposition, and the projected trial date only a week away. “No!”

He started pacing, and ended up in the kitchen just as he read the final, soul-crushing paragraph:

“As a witness in the trial you will not be permitted any access to the accused’s hearing. This is a legal summons, and we look forward to your presence at the deposition.

The legal team of Sidney Henderson and Associates”

“No!” He screamed to the ceiling, balled up the letter, and pounded both fists on the counter until the bowel of truffle tarts sitting on it began to rattle precariously towards the edge.

“Bloody hell?” Harry heard Ron’s voice travel down the hallway. He looked up to see him and Hermione shuffling down the hall in their bathrobes, Hermione still adjusting her ties and Ron’s open with nothing but his boxers underneath.

“Harry, what on earth is the matter?” Hermione asked a bit breathlessly. Both of their hair was mussed and damp in places.

Harry shook with frustration. “I don’t suppose you could have answered the bloody door!”

“Sorry, Harry…we were…erm…just packing for our trip to the Burro,” Hermione said a bit sheepishly. 

Harry took a moment to roll his eyes at the obvious lie, then grabbed the balled up summons, flattened it out on the counter, and raised it up to their faces. “This,” he spat, “this is the matter.” He was shaking so bad, Hermione had to take it from him to read it. She scanned it quickly, and said, “It’s a summons to testify at Draco’s trial…so you did get one.” 

As Harry tried to process her last sentence, Ron grabbed the summons from Hermione and glanced at it while reaching for a truffle. “Yeah,” he stated nonchalantly, “I got one of these this morning.” He looked up at Harry quizzically. “Why are you so upset?” He finished by shoving the truffle in his mouth.

Harry pressed his lips together until they disappeared and snatched the paper back. “Because,” he answered, breathing like he had just ran up 20 flights of stairs. “I was going to go speak for him at his hearing tomorrow…now I can’t!” He finished with a challenging glare at both of them. 

Ron looked at him like he had just sprouted ten heads. “Are you ou’ of your mind?” he cried, mumbling around the truffle. 

“Yes, Ron, I’m mental.” He responded coldly.

“Harry…” Hermione placed a hand on his arm.

“Do you honestly think that Malfoy deserves to rot in Azkaban?” His voice rose to the rafters of the attic on the last word, but he didn’t care at the moment what he sounded like or if he offended them. Hermione looked at Harry with gentle concern; she hadn’t seen him this upset for a long time.

“Don't you?” Ron answered, still confused, and still chewing the truffle. 

Harry continued to tremble and shake as he stared at them. He had never had the conversation with them about his firm belief that Draco had purposefully not identified him at the manor, and if he had, Voldemort would have been called on the spot. Now may be a good time …

Ron, however, interrupted his thoughts. “Anyways,” he continued clearly, having finally swallowed his food, “None of it will matter, mate…they will take one look at his dark mark and it’ll be all be over.”

At this, Harry startled, gaping at Ron at this disturbing observation. Then he turned to lean against the counter with his hands, his head bent down “If they did that...it would not be justice.” A few intense moments lingered and then he turned back around abruptly.

“Harry?” Hermione asked with a question in her voice. She had seen this look before.

Suddenly Harry pushed past them and marched to his room. He heard Ron and Hermione as they bounced along behind to follow him. "Harry!” Hermione called after him.

He went straight for his trunk and pulled out his cloak of invisibility. Rummaging a bit more until he found the map he was looking for, he shoved both items in the rucksack he kept by his bed. He turned to see them in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked.

“Going OUT.” He answered, pushing past them once again on his way to the front door. Again, they followed frantically behind him.

“Harry!” Hermione cried more insistently.

He was already putting on his outer robes when they caught up with him.

“Where are you going?” She continued, now very concerned.

Harry adjusted his rucksack onto his back, and paused to look at them as he opened the door. “Diagon Alley.”

"Now?” Ron asked unbelievably. 

“Harry, nothing is open!” Hermione added helplessly.

“I know a couple places that are still open.” Then, to calm and reassure them , added, “Look, Im sorry I took things out on you. Don’t worry, I just need some time alone to think. Go back to your…packing.” Before closing the door, he added, “I’ll be back soon…don’t worry.”

He stepped outside on the front landing for a moment, and felt himself calm considerably having come up with a plan. He dug the map out and searched for the coordinates of the place he was looking for, then placed the cloak about his shoulders. He reached for his wand and held it up in front of his face. 

“The prosecution is going to really regret summoning me,” he thought with determination. Then, using the coordinates, apparated into the night.


	2. The Trial Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A judge who looks very much like professor Dumbledore, Draco’s thoughts, and Ron's Testimony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming!

“We will now move on to the case of The School of Hogwarts and Ministry of Magic vs. Draco Malfoy.” 

The judge spoke loudly across the courtroom as he read from the parchment he held in front of him. He was an aging wizard minister brought in from a different district, and his intricate layered robes of many colors indicated he was of high rank. His long, silvery hair, beard, and wizened eyes bore a striking resemblance to the late Professor Dumbledore himself. His face scanned both teams of lawyers…and then let his gaze linger on the defendant.

Draco Malfoy avoided his eyes uncomfortably, squirming on the wooden court bench that faced the podium. Not only had the judge’s words pained him more than he would have thought possible, but for a split second it was as though his old school master had come to haunt him. “Draco, you are no assassin.” The words echoed in his head, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady and his features neutral.

As he leaned against the wooden backrest trying to maintain control, the effort he expended released itself in rows of sweat that trickled down his back under his black robes. He was not allowed a wand, of course, and could not use a drying spell. The pressure of the cold, iron shackle around his wrists reminded him he wouldn’t have been able to use it in any case. 

The old judge then turned to look over the heads of the courtroom visitors. “Let us begin.”

Whispers rose among those in attendance. Draco knew Blaise, Pansy, Goyle and a few others from Slytherin house were there, but otherwise few of those present were there to support him. His mother was not allowed in the courtroom.

He leaned forward slightly to adjust his position, but the robe pulled in resistance, his sweat congealing the garment to the varnished backrest. Reaching back to free it, it made a soft ripping sound, and he glanced around nervously. 

All eyes were on the court reporter, who sat primly upright using a magic spell to guide her quill over the parchment on the desk before her. She wore large spectacles which sat on the end of her nose, her silver-laced auburn hair tied back under a black hat, and ignored the rest of the courtroom as her quill transcribed the words that the judge spoke. 

“There will be silence in this court as we proceed,” the wizard judge stated calmly but firmly, and paused to wipe and replace his glasses. “The prosecution may call its first witness.”

Prosecution.

The word stung in Draco’s ears, and despite his best efforts, felt his heart rate increase in his chest and his hands tremble, though he clasped them close together. He knew the things he had done warranted his place here. He knew he warranted being called before this court to answer for them…just like his father.

He had just watched the conviction of Lucius Malfoy with pain, fear, and regret, and as they had led Lucius away in handcuffs to be booked for his trip to Azkaban, Draco had fruitlessly stared after his father’s retreating back, wishing him to turn around and look at his son one last time. 

Going to prison wasn’t what worried him the most, despite his fears. What saddened him was the thought of leaving behind people he had come to care about…people who he had hurt…things he would never be able to make right, and never getting the chance to prove himself to them. People…okay, if he was honest, there was one person in particular who he would regret leaving. 

His thoughts returned to the cold, quiet, room, as the prosecuting wizard stood. Like the judge, in the interest of fairness, the lawyers in the trial were not from the Hogwarts community of ministry. The prosecutor was relatively young, though with greying temples and an air of assuredness and cunning. He spoke with clipped authority as he looked to his team of witnesses.

“The prosecution calls Mr. Ronald Weasley to the stand.”

Draco refused to look at him as he strode forward, but his footsteps were hard and sure and Draco knew what was coming. He also knew that Granger sat on the bench along with Professor McGonagall, Longbottom, and Ginny Weasley. He wasn’t sure who all would be testifying, or if there would be others arriving later. His lawyer had been annoyingly tight lipped. But the thought of having to sit there while his classmates spoke of all the things that had haunted him these past months since the war left a lump he could not swallow.

“Do you swear to tell the truth and only the truth as commanded by wizardry law?”

There was a pause, and Draco glanced up at him then. Weasley had a firm set to his mouth as he finally answered, “I do.” His eyes were fixed to the back of the room, and Draco thought he detected a note of sadness in them.

He sat down, maintaining a determined expression.

“Now,” the lawyer began, “We are here to try the actions of Draco Malfoy, his role with the Death Eaters, the calling forth of Lord Voldemort, conspiring against the ministry of magic leading to the War of Hogwarts, which lead to the death of hundreds including….your brother.” He paused for affect and scanned the room, then asked Ron directly, “Please tell the court how you know the accused?”

“We went to Hogwarts together for seven years.” He spoke as if he could barely believe his own words.

“And, how would you describe your relationship to him?”

At this point, Draco’s attorney, who had been leaving notes on pages in front of him, raised his hand and called out “Objection. Relevance?”

Draco was mildly surprised. Given the trial and with the Malfoy monetary resources suspended, he had had no choice but to accept a court-appointed lawyer, and he hadn’t expected him to go beyond the minimum. 

The prosecutor turned to the judge, and speaking with condescending patience, said, “Your excellency, I am merely trying to establish the nature of the accused’s character.”

“I will allow it,” the judge huffed, but pointed a finger. “A reminder to you however, to be specific and stick to facts.”

“Of course your wizardry.”

He turned back to Ron.

“Mr. Weasley, please recall an example that would reflect Mr. Malfoy as someone who could be guilty of the crimes he stands accused of?”

“Yes. From the very beginning, he showed himself to be the kind of person who looks down on those without pureblood, those of lower class, who the Death Eaters also hate, those who Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters sought to destroy…”

“Specifics, Mr. Weasley, “the lawyer reminded him.

Then for the first time, Weasley shot a look at Draco, who felt as though he had been punched.

“He tried to turn Harry Potter against me and my whole family on our first day at Hogwarts.”

The air shifted in the courtroom, but no one dared utter a sound.

“And how did he do that?” 

Ron turned back to the lawyer. 

“He made nasty remarks about our clothes and said some wizard families were better than others, and that Harry would be wise to make friends with the right sort, and offered Harry his assistance with that!” Ron spoke in a surprisingly controlled though pointed manner.

“And what was Harry’s response?” the prosecutor paced a short path in front of Ron as he spoke, and gestured expectantly.

Draco’s lawyer objected again with a simple word. “Hearsay!”

The prosecutor smiled wickedly at him. “It really isn’t, but I will withdraw the question. We will just ask Mr. Potter himself when we call him to the stand.”

Draco’s insides squashed all the way down to the lowest parts of his belly. Of course they would have Potter testify. He knew that. So why did he feel this disappointment? Anger and regret welled inside him, but he knew it was not anger at Potter…or even Weasley. He was angry with himself.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to bear listening to Potter testify against him, though he deserved it. The last time he had seen Potter was in the arms of Hagrid on the cusp of the Battle for Hogwarts. The memory made him shiver. Many nights since, he had pondered at his level of relief when news of Harry’s victory over the evil Lord had come to him. Now he would finally see the very much alive Harry, while he himself sat in handcuffs. It was true he had helped save Potter that time in the manor, but in the grand scheme of things so much else outweighed that. And only Potter knew after all. 

Turning his attention back to the proceedings, he used every Slytherin strength he could muster to maintain his controlled countenance, but he couldn’t know that his eyes betrayed the haunting pain that rumbled through his inner being.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe there were some specific more recent events that would indicate Mr. Malfoy’s involvement with the Death Eaters. Can you elaborate?” 

“All you have to do is just look at the tattoo on his arm. They all have them!”

There was an audible shift as heads turned towards Draco, including Weasley.

“Yes!” The prosecutor almost said joyously. “Let’s look at exhibit A, shall we? Will the accused stand so that the guard can lift the left sleeve of his robe, please?”

With a panic, Draco turned to his lawyer, who objected. “This exhibit was not planned in advance and it is highly irregular. I move that we…”

“Either it is there or it is not, counsellor,” the prosecutor gaffed, hands raised in a shrug. “What are you trying to hide?”

The judge’s gavel came down hard several times, the magic it used casting sparks around the desk. “May I see the counsel up here please?” It was not a question.

While his lawyer and the prosecutor gathered around the judge in heated whispers, Draco felt his chin tremble, and looking down, cursed himself. Maybe it would be better to just show the tattoo, confess, and get it over with. At least then he wouldn’t have to face Harry Potter. 

Regret washed over him anew, and as he looked up to square his shoulders to face come what may, found his eyes locked with Weasley’s. Their gaze held, and Draco’s mind chanted the phrase “I’m sorry” until Weasley blinked and turned away.

Each Lawyer took their seat and the judge explained. “There will be no ‘exhibits’ at this time, but as Mr. Malfoy is in custody, there is no danger of the evidence being tampered with…if it is there. Now, can we proceed gentlemen?”

“As we were saying, Mr. Weasley,” the lawyer stood, now with a pen in his hand that he used to gesture with randomly, “what other things has the accused done?”

Now Ron looked several beats towards the bench where Hermione and the others were sitting.

“Mr. Weasley?”

Ron turned back to the lawyer and pressed on. “He sided with his father who conspired against the ministry every chance he could. He called those he hated nasty things like mudbloods! He created the vanishing cabinet and hexed Katie and tried to kill Professor Dumbledore. He sat by while innocents died. He…”

Ron’s voice had grown shaky as he spoke, and paused as if to gather his emotions.

“And in your opinion, for the court,” the lawyer prodded patiently, “does Draco Malfoy deserve to be sentenced to Azkaban?”

“Yes,” Ron swallowed, blinking tears at the lawyer, “He deserves to go to Azkaban with his father.” Then to his friends on the bench. “He deserves it!” And finally, he turned one last time to Draco. “He does!” Then he slumped and looked down hard at the floor in front of him.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I have no more questions for you at this time.” And turned to sit back down on the bench.

Draco sat miserably. The worst part about it was, he couldn’t disagree with him. And wasn’t that just ironic?

The judge turned to the defense bench.

“Do you care to cross examine?”

In response, Draco’s lawyer rose and carefully approached the stand.

“Mr. Weasley,” he began, then paused with a raised eyebrow. “It almost seems to me like you were trying to convince YOURSELF that my client deserves to go to Azkaban!”

“Objection!” 

“I withdraw” he answered dryly before continuing. “Were you there, Ron Weasley, when the accused allegedly created the vanishing cabinet and hexed Miss Katie?”

Ron pursed his lips and squirmed uncomfortably. “Well, no, but everyone knows, even Harry said…”

“That is what we call hearsay, as the prosecution and the whole court well knows. The fact is, you didn’t witness these events, did you?”

“NO, but…”

“So, you can’t actually testify that Draco is responsible for them.”

Tension in the room mounted as a frustrated Ron responded, “Harry TOLD us…,”

“Yes, yes, yes, so you say, but YOU did not witness anything?”

Ron could only respond with “No.”

“So…your apparent grudge against my client is nothing more than adolescent squabbling.”

“ObJECtion!” The prosecutor fairly shouted across the courtroom.

“I withdraw,” the defense said calmly with a flick of his wrist. “No further questions.”

The judge looked between them with a sigh and asked. “Does the prosecutor have any follow up questions?” 

The wizard lawyer stood and marched quickly to Weasley and clipped without preamble. “Was it adolescent squabbling that lead to the near demise of you and your friends at Malfoy Manor just a short time ago?”

“No!”

“Thank you Mr. Weasley. No further questions at this time, but we reserve the right to recall you later if needed.” With that he turned on his heel and strode to his bench while adjusting the lapels of his robe and tilting his head in a strange tic.

The judge then turned to Ron. “You may step down, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron visibly trembled as he stood and made his way down the long isle and found a spot in the back row.

Draco had to admit, his court appointed lawyer was doing his best to represent him, though he had agreed to his representation without much hope. It didn’t matter much though. He bore the mark in his arm; in the end, that is all they would need to convict him.

There was a movement in the air of anticipation as people shuffled briefly in their seats. The judge hit his gavel once and extended a hand across his desk towards the prosecutor expectantly, who stood with an air of renewed zeal, apparently fully recovered from his nervous tic.

“Let’s just get right to it, shall we,” he began confidently. “The prosecution will now call Mr. Harry Potter to the stand.”

Draco steeled himself as the energy in the room shifted and heads turned to look for Potter, who apparently hadn’t been at the bench with the rest of the prosecuting witnesses. After a moment, the large back double doors creaked open and there was a rumbling murmur through the court as all eyes widened on someone who moved through them. 

Draco, despite himself, despite his fear and pain and the situation, couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up in an expression of familiar wry humor; leave it to Pott-ahh…the Boy-Who-Lived TWICE…to make a grand entrance.

And then his next thought came to him with absolute conviction. Only Harry Potter had the power at this moment to inspire a smirk…only Harry.


	3. Harry's Testimony and the Magic Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter befuddles the prosecutor and Draco gets a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back! Hope you enjoy! 💞

Draco wanted to turn around desperately, but he felt frozen in place, and couldn’t move. He stared at the floor and tried to slow his rapid breathing as he expectantly waited for Harry to appear.

As the crowd continued its murmurings, and light, sure steps moved down the aisle, Draco began to feel the floor under his feet vibrate. What was...and then the back doors swung open again, followed by renewed gasps. Sure, heavy footsteps thundered, each one shaking the room.

That could only be…

“Hagrid,” voices whispered loudly.

Would Hagrid be testifying too? Draco heard one of the back benches creak loudly in protest as the giant apparently sat down. Perhaps Hagrid had only come to escort the Boy Who Lived.

Harry.

When Draco sensed Potter was very close, he raised his head in time to see him walk past. The Boy Who Had No Choice inhaled quickly in surprise; he had been so sure Potter would be there dressed in his finest Gryffindor robes.

Harry wore jet-black jeans…or were they slacks? Draco’s eyes were drawn upwards, where Harry was wearing a long jumper that flowed past his hips, the sleeves long and loose almost entirely covering his hands.

The color was…Draco blinked, transfixed. The color was varying shades of gray that changed into intricate hues depending on which way the light hit it and how it moved. The garment was not glittery, yet it shimmered in the light, almost as if there were magic in it.

When he reached the stand and turned, Draco held his breath as he looked upon the very much alive Harry Potter’s face for the first time since….

Potter’s green eyes seemed to shine brighter than he ever remembered…perhaps it was the color of his jumper that accentuated them. On his nose were the same glasses he always wore, and on his head was the same raven hair, slightly mussed, as always, and…Draco couldn’t look away. He looked perfect. 

Then Harry flicked his eyes to Draco’s. Caught off guard, Draco stopped breathing for a moment as they held eye contact, and the rest of the room was forgotten. The gesture was very subtle, only lasting for two beats of a heart; a gesture that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone else, but was very intentional none the less.

As the judge used his gavel to quiet the court and “Mr. Potter” was sworn in, Draco continued to relive the exchange of glances they had shared. Harry’s look was not one of bitterness, it was not a look that said, ‘just wait, you’ll get yours.’ There wasn’t a hint of malice in it; as a matter of fact, it was a look of something else entirely. Surely Potter was not testifying for the prosecution willingly. The thought was like a blanket that soothed his soul, however temporary the reprieve might be.

The prosecutor approached the witness stand eagerly.

“Mr. Potter, let’s begin by filling in some gaps left by Mr. Weasley’s testimony. He testified that he witnessed the accused trying to turn you against his family, saying he could help you avoid the wrong sort. Can you tell the court how you responded?”

Harry paused long enough for the lawyer to prompt, “Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered apologetically. “I was just going through my memories to be sure I answer right.”

The lawyer stared at him. “You had no problems remembering during our deposition.” 

Harry answered evenly. “We were eleven.”

“Would you please answer the question?”

“I told him that I was quite able to tell the wrong sort for myself.” 

The prosecutor glanced at the defense bench with smugness. “A very wise decision, was it not?” He asked Harry.

“Not so sure about that.”

The lawyer tilted his head. “Not so sure?”

“Well, you see, I spent the entirety of my first year trying to prove that Professor Snape was behind the plot to steal the sorcerer’s stone…so I was quite wrong about my abilities, wasn’t I?”

The neck of the prosecutor began turning a very deep shade of pink. The whole court knew, yes, the whole wizarding world knew, that Snape had not only been exonerated, but was even now hailed to be a hero. And now here was his witness, seemingly out to discredit himself.

“We are not here to try the late Professor Snape, Mr. Potter,” he stated tightly.

“Sorry.” Harry shrugged, the shoulders of his jumper glimmering under the court lights.

“Let’s talk about another thing Mr. Weasley mentioned,” he continued, eager to move on. “He said that Mr. Malfoy has the tattoo of the Dark Lord on his left arm, which we will use as exhibit A later in the trial. But, just to confirm, can you testify that the accused indeed has this very tattoo on his left arm?”

As Draco watched and listened to Harry testify, he was almost certain that he had been made to testify against his will, and wondered at his answers…given with almost Slytherin cleverness, yet still truthful. But there would be no way around the dark tattoo. 

“I believe I saw a tattoo on his arm the night Professor Dumbledore was killed.”

“A tattoo? Was it not the tattoo of the Dark Lord?”

“I…can’t be sure…”

Draco let out a slow breath and started to tremble. Were those not Draco’s very words when his father asked him to identify Potter at Malfoy Manor?

“You…what do you mean you can’t be sure?” The lawyer spat, incensed. 

“I’m sorry, sir, maybe this will help,” Harry hesitated, then began to lift the sleeve of his left arm. “Does it look anything like this?”

And with that, he revealed the black marking of a Boa Constrictor making its way down his left arm.

The court gasped as one, and loud whispered conversations began throughout the room. Draco sat with open mouthed shock, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking over at the prosecuting bench of witnesses. Granger looked just as shocked as he felt, staring at Harry like a guppy, with a clearly traumatized Ginny Weasley at her side. Professor McGonagall sat stone still, but her glassy eyes moved with many emotions as she stared at Potter…mild shock, concern, but also wonder, and Draco was sure he could sense the wheels of her mind turning behind them.

“What is the MEANING of this!” The lawyer sputtered.

The judge was leaning over his desk trying to get a better look at the mark for himself, apparently forgetting to use his gavel. He squinted at it, then showed an open hand to the court to quiet them. “There seems to be writing on it,” he said almost to himself. He then read the inscription loudly, “Born in captivity.” Suddenly he jumped back with a small start, nearly losing his glasses. Readjusting them, he leaned in again, then looked at Harry with mild surprise.

“Mr. Potter, am I seeing things or…did that snake just WINK at me?”

Harry smiled at him. “I’m sure he did, your wizardry. It’s kind of a special tattoo, after all.”

“This is OUTRAGEOUS!” And now the prosecutor’s neck was fairly purple. “I demand a recess so I may confer with my…witnesssss.”

The judge leaned back in his chair and responded calmly, “I see no need for that, counsellor. I am sure you have other questions prepared for this witness?”

The angry man visibly calmed himself. “Fine.” Then marched closer to Harry’s chair.

“MISTER Potter. Out of morbid curiosity, can you tell this court why you would get such a tattoo…on your arm?” 

“Sure,” he answered agreeably. “You see, I am able to speak parseltongue. I spoke to a snake just like this one before I even knew I was a wizard. And…” he smiled slightly, “I freed him, without even knowing what I was doing, and for the first time in its life moved where he wanted to. I just…in a moment of sentiment, I got this tattoo while celebrating the victory of the Battle for Hogwarts.” 

Draco rested against the backrest, focused on Potter with an expression of surprised, frank admiration.

The lawyer glared at his witness for a long moment, then finally stepped back rubbing his hands together.

“So, to be clear, let’s talk about motive, shall we? You never sat in the council of the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor.” 

“No, sir.”

“And you didn’t conspire to hex Miss Katie.”

“No, sir.”

The prosecutor then narrowed his eyes. “And you did not conspire to kill Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No, sir.”

The prosecutor’s jaw tightened, as if annoyed by his calm, short answers, and took a step closer.

“So then, Mr. Potter,” he spoke darkly, enunciating each word distinctly, “There is a distinct difference between your tattoo, and that of the Dark Lord. Since you had nothing to do with the Dark Lord, YOUR tattoo couldn’t possibly be used to convict you in a court of law, could it?”

Harry stared back at him. “I don’t see how it could…it’s just a…”

“Yes or no, Mr. Potter.”

Harry smiled at him then. “No, without concrete proof of actions against the ministry, a tattoo is just ink on…”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter” he cut him off with a sneer. 

The court reporter continued ignoring the court drama, primly moving her quill rapidly against the parchment, recording every word that was spoken.


	4. Harry’s Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but it seemed a good place to end it. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! 💞

The prosecutor looked to the judge and stabbed his finger repeatedly at the court reporter.

“I want that last statement stricken from the record!!”

The wizened wizard judge folded his arms across his desk and leaned forward. “Careful, counsellor…”

“I want it stricken from the record RIGHT now!”

“Which part…where the witness said ‘no’ or where he said that only proof of one’s actions can convict a person? Are you against such a sentiment?” He asked, an eyebrow raised.

“I…that is not the…”

“I myself feel that it is an important point in accordance with the law, and I will let it stand.” He relaxed back in his chair, ignoring the lawyer’s icy stare. “Please, proceed.”

The prosecutor’s neck tic began twitching again, and he took a breath as he faced his witness.

“All right, Potter!” he spat, forgetting to use the proper prefix.

Draco winced briefly. Is that how he had sounded for the better part of seven years? 

“Mr. Potter,” the lawyer corrected himself, “I’m going to ask you about your accusation to Professor McGonagall, and keep in mind she will be testifying also. Is it not true you went to the professor to tell her that the accused had, in fact, hexed Miss Katie and, in your opinion, joined the death eaters?”

“Yes…I did.”

“Please…tell the court how you came to this conclusion?”

For the first time, Harry’s expression clouded, and took a breath before answering. “He started looking different to me…withdrawn, like he carried a heavy burden. He was no longer the Draco Malfoy I had known the first few years at Hogwarts.”

The prosecutor responded delightedly, “Which had been bad enough, I’m sure!” He glanced at the defense lawyer, expecting him to object, but he remained surprisingly quiet. He sat staring at Harry, absently twirling the quill he had been using.

Harry answered slowly. “Actually, if I am being totally honest, I quite rather enjoyed our banter over those years.”

There was an unseen movement of air in the courtroom, as if the room itself felt the impact of the statement.

Draco breathing came in short puffs as a growing warmth settled in his chest. That couldn’t be right, though, they had hated each other…hadn’t they?

Echoes of memory flashed through Draco’s brain, all the times he had spewed “Pottahh” from his mouth, and the scathing things he had said, and tried to remember Potter’s reactions. Like the time they did detention in the forbidden forest: ‘If I didn’t know better Draco, I’d say you were scared.’ He could look back on it now with some form of fondness…after all, he hadn’t actually called him scared. Then the time during Hagrid’s class when Harry had responded to his taunts by sauntering up to him saying, “Shut UP Malfoy!” The memory of his own response to that caused him to grin slightly. Not to mention all the quidditch encounters, and...Potter had a point. He had obviously enjoyed the banter too.

The prosecutor made a repetitive motion with his hand and spoke with an exasperated tone, “Yes, yes, but he changed, became dark and withdrawn.” He wasn’t going to give this witness a chance to expound on his last statement. “Miss Katie had been hexed, and something must have apparently caused you to believe that the accused is the one who had done it?”

“I…followed him. I wanted to know why he had changed, I wanted to know…what was wrong with him. It bothered me that I cared about it so much, so at the time I convinced myself that he must have been the one to hex Katie, because of how he had changed, and…because of who his father was and he lived at the Malfoy Manor…and to justify why I was stalking him.”

“Is it stalking on your part as a concerned citizen of Hogwarts, considering what was going on with the Dark Lord?”

Harry stared at him and spoke pointedly. “I spent the entirety of my sixth year trying to prove that Draco Malfoy was the one behind Katie’s hex, and that he had become a death eater.”

Draco wondered, had he used those words purposefully, using the exact same phrasing he had used to talk about Professor Snape?

The lawyer opened his mouth quickly and then stopped himself, as if sensing a trap. He seemed to gauge his next words carefully.

“Please don’t vex yourself over it Mr. Potter, there is a very good reason you did what you did. The accused lived at the manor, along with the Dark Lord and the rest of their bunch. We know this and you know this, because you were there; you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger were all nearly killed for it. We know these things to be true; I would say your sixth year accusation was much warranted. The witch Bellatrix, the Malfoys including the accused, were all in on the plan to call Lord Voldemort to destroy Hogwarts as we know it and destroy all of YOU, do you deny it?”

“There was definitely a plan,” Harry voice took on a different tone, as if his emotions were catching up with him, “but…”

“Yes or no, Mr. Potter!”

“No,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“So, considering you have agreed that Draco was present with those concocting this plan, many who are even now serving their time at Azkaban, can you not agree that he deserves to spend his time there also?”

“No!” Now Harry fairly shouted. “If it wasn’t for Draco, I wouldn’t be alive! Neither would Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger! He…”

But the lawyer cut him off. “Ridiculous!” he spat. “The accused is obviously guilty…” Then he stood close to Harry’s chair and narrowed his eyes. “And I’m starting to have my doubts about you, too!”

Draco’s lawyer finally raised his hand and called out loudly, “Objection!”

The wizened judge immediately responded with “Sustained! The court reporter will strike that last sentence from the record.”

With one last dirty look at his traitor of a witness, the prosecutor took his seat at his bench. “No further questions for the witness at this time.”

After hitting his gavel once for good measure, the judge turned to Draco and his lawyer. “Does the defense wish to cross examine?”

Draco’s defense attorney stood and approached the podium with a broad, close lipped smile. “Oh, yes, your wizardry,” he spoke emphatically, “Indeed, I do.”


	5. New Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry completes his testimony, and brings new information to the court! ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going much quicker than I anticipated! I already have half of next chapter written in my head!

Draco’s lawyer moved towards the podium but paused at the prosecution’s bench and looked at his opposition. “You Know,” he began a bit sarcastically, “For a while there, I felt as if I wasn’t needed in this trial…the prosecution and his witness seem to be doing my job for me.”

“Object…”

“Withdrawn,” he spoke over him, and turned to face Harry Potter. “Now, Mr. Potter, I am going to ask you some questions…rather important questions the prosecutor failed to ask you.” He smiled at him encouragingly, and Potter stared at him, eyes widening with expectancy.

“But first,” he looked down at the parchment he had brought with him, “I am very curious about something you said regarding your motivations for…following my client. You said, quote, “I wanted to know what was wrong with him. It bothered me that I cared about it so much.” He looked back up at Potter, whose eyes had now widened even more, and paused.

Draco sat with a growing intensity that began in his lower stomach as he watched Potter’s face, which now had the appearance of a deer in the headlights. He tried to school his own features, but knew they still held his knit eyebrows of confusion and concern. What was his lawyer doing?

“I’m assuming here obviously that ‘it’ refers to my client.” Again, it was a statement rather than a question, and Harry, whose cheeks now bore a faint shade of pink, could only stare back at him. 

“Is there a question here?” The prosecutor growled from his seat.

With his eyes still on Harry, the defense lawyer responded, “Forgive me, judge, I seem to be getting off track. My first question, Mr. Potter, is did you ever witness my client hexing Miss Katie?”

“No, sir.” Harry stated clearly.

“Did you witness him plotting against Professor Dumbledore?”

“No, sir.”

“And did you ever witness him actually joining the group of Death Eaters?”

“No, sir.”

“So you went to Professor McGonagall because…” and he looked at his notes again, “because of who my client’s father was, and because he lived with him at Malfoy manner, and to…” he looked back up at Harry. “…to justify your concern for him.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

The lawyer stared at him. “All circumstantial, baseless, accusations?”

“Yes, sir. Mostly”

“Mostly?”

“Well...I was concerned, sir.”

The lawyer smiled at him. “Do you regret going to Professor McGonagall, Mr. Potter?”

“Objection!” The prosecutor cried from his bench. But this time, Draco’s lawyer did not withdraw.

The judge leaned back and answered slowly, “Overruled.” Then he looked over to the witness. “You may answer the question, Mr. Potter.”

“Yes I do. I never should have gone to her without proof.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” He smiled widely, then took a breath as if he would ask a follow –up question, but instead, slowly exhaled. “So, Mr. Potter, would you agree with my observations that unless Professor Gonagall testifies that SHE witnessed my client’s alleged crimes, the prosecution seems to be completely without witnesses?” 

“Objection!”

This time the judge agreed. “Sustained.”

“I completely agree with you!” Potter answered quickly, ignoring the judge.

“Objection, your wizardry! I swear I will make a motion for contempt of court!”

There were mumblings throughout the room, and the judge’s gavel came down hard again.

“I’m sorry, your wizardry, that just slipped out.” Harry said with a panicked look to the judge.

The judge sighed. “That last statement will be stricken from the record.” Then he leaned to Harry and looked him in the eye. “Please…please be careful Mr. Potter.” And seemed to speak only to him. “We don’t want a mistrial, do we?”

Harry shook his head, and the judge sat upright. “Do you have more questions, counsellor?” He asked carefully.

“Yes, your wizardry, I have one more.” And he looked to Harry again before asking, “Please tell the court, how did my client save you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger, at Malfoy Manor?”

Draco felt himself begin to tremble everywhere and he became slightly dizzy. He wasn’t as confident as his lawyer seemed to be, but that was probably because he doubted why Potter or anyone from the Gryffindor house would testify on his behalf? And yet so far, he seemed to be doing just that.

“Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix, and the rest of them had captured Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger and I…only I had been disfigured so they couldn’t recognize me. They couldn’t call on the Dark Lord until they were sure it was me.” Harry seemed to shake his prior nerves as he spoke in earnest, leaning forward. “So they called on Draco to identify me.”

The defense lawyer raised a finger, “Draco?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "And why would they ask him?”

“Because…they knew he would be able to ID me. We had been to school together for seven years.”

“Hmmm,” he responded, “And did he?”

“Draco knew who I was. He knew it was me, but he didn’t give me away to Bellatrix or his father.” He continued almost breathlessly, as if he had been waiting the whole time for a chance to say it. “All he had to do was say “yes” and Voldemort would have been called, and it would have been all over. But he didn’t, even with his father and the rest breathing down his neck, knowing the consequences. He bought us valuable time, time that saved all our necks.” He turned to the judge. “Your wizardry, Draco Malfoy should be exonerated here…he did a very brave thing. He is not like the rest of them. He deserves a second chance.”

The court burst with reactions throughout the room, and the judge feared he would lose control, even with his gavel, which came down several times against the desk, sparks flying. “There will be order in this court!” 

The room gradually quieted down, but then the prosecutor called out “Prove it!” in objection. “How do YOU know the accused knew it was you?”

The judge pounded his gavel. “Order!” And then pointed at the prosecutor. “Now YOU are out of line, counselor…unless you consider this your redirect questioning and defense counsel doesn’t mind the interruption?” He turned with a questioning glance to Draco’s lawyer.

“I don’t mind at all. In fact, I was going to ask that myself.” He raised his eyebrows towards Harry. 

“Of course he knew who I was. He even asked what was wrong with my face, because he knew it was me.”

The lawyer took a step closer. “How can you be absolutely sure?”

“It…it was the way he looked at me. His eyes…his eyes told me. I am sure just as much as I am sure I am sitting here right now.” That seemed to quiet the courtroom much quicker than the judge’s gavel. 

Draco’s insides released as he took deep breaths, but he still trembled, perhaps for a different reason. 

The judge rubbed his chin as he studied first the defendant and then the witness, then addressed the court.

“This is indeed new information counselors, information we should have had at the hearing!” He removed his glasses as if this would help him understand why he had not heard it. “This puts a whole new light on this case!”

The prosecutor stood, his face red with anger. “I have one more witness to call, your wizardry,” he eyed the judge almost threateningly, “I have one more witness and I demand to call Professor McGonagall to the stand!”

Draco’s lawyer shrugged. “Please, be my guest! I have no further questions for this witness.” Then he turned to Harry and spoke with much sincerity. “Thank you, Mr. Potter.”

“The witness may step down.” 

Harry stood on shaky legs, and he took several deep breaths before making his way down the aisle. His gaze watched the floor in front of him, but as he drew near Draco, the pink in his cheeks intensified, and he glanced at him with a small smile as he passed by, while running his hand over his shirt. It shimmered in the light, and suddenly Draco felt as if someone was enveloping him in warmth…it almost felt like being hugged. 

Then he disappeared past him, and the prosecutor was calling Professor Gonagall to the stand. Whatever she had to say, he would never forget what Potter had tried to do for him.

After being sworn in, she sat and eyed the prosecutor sternly as she waited for his first question; a look, Draco knew, that all the students were familiar with.

“Professor McGonagall, I have called you here to ask about the accusation Mr. Potter brought to you. Did he not come to you with good reason regarding the accused?”

The professor adjusted her glasses before answering.

“Let me save all of us a lot of time, Mr. Henderson,” she clipped, using his given name. “I wish to say that I have not witnessed Mr. Draco Malfoy engage in any of the activity he is accused of. And in light of Mr. Potter’s testimony, I would encourage this court to extend leniency towards Mr. Malfoy. I might add that it is my opinion the accused was caught up in something he could not control and had little choice over…” Then she looked at Draco himself. “When it came down to brass tax, though, he did make a choice, a choice that most-likely had impact on the outcome of the war itself. Without Potter to defeat Voldemort, things would look very different right now indeed. As far as I am concerned, any indictment against the accused would be a complete breach of justice!”

Not even the angry prosecutor attempted to interrupt Professor McGonagall. 

“Now, do you have any other questions for me, counselor?”

“No,” he growled, his neck purple and twitching.

“Does the defense have anything to add?” The judge asked Draco’s lawyer.

“I believe Professor McGonagall has said it all, your wizardry. I do make a motion that with this new testimony from Mr. Potter and the Professor, that the court drop the case against my client immediately.”

“The witness may step down,” the judge said to the professor, who gathered her robes and made her way to her seat, every eye in the room on her, including Draco’s…who had to blink repeatedly to clear the mist from them.

“As for your request, counsel, I am inclined to agree with you,” and he paused as those in attendance murmured again. “However, in accordance with the law, I shall look over all testimony here-to-for given, and we will come back tomorrow morning with my decision. The court is dismissed.”

Draco’s lawyer came to sit next to him and patted him on the back reassuringly, but all Draco could think about was Potter as he had testified for him, and the…the mysterious, virtual “hug” he had received from him. Perhaps there was something magical in the shirt after all. He would, of course, have to spend another night in his holding cell, and though things felt hopeful, there was always the chance the judge could change his mind. But whatever happened, he would never forget Potter’s testimony…or Professor McGonagall’s either. He really had done nothing to deserve either one of them.


	6. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's mother visits him in his holding cell, and perhaps he gets another visitor as well! 😘🥰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope you all enjoy!

Draco sat on the simple cot with his arms folded across his knees, a cot that that served as his bed, with a sheet, pillow, and rough blanket. He rubbed his wrists, thankful to be free of the handcuffs.

The walls were made of square, rugged stones, as was the outer hall, save for the wall made of thick iron bars that faced him. Against the wall to the left stood a small wooden desk where they served him his meals. A damp, dusky smell permeated the place, and the occasional scurry of a rodent could be heard, but the worst part was the tin pail where he had to do his “business.” Thankfully, there was a drain in the corner.

Tonight, however, none of it affected him, as his thoughts and feelings were consumed by what had happened that day. Had it all been real? Harry Potter on the witness stand literally fighting for him at his trial? Of course, it was a very honorable, Gryffindor thing to do…a very Harry Potter thing to do. Alone with his thoughts, he could acknowledge that he himself had not been as honorable, and this apparent chasm between them still grated on him…but why? Why was that? 

He remembered the things Potter had said at the trial…he had enjoyed their “banter,” he had been concerned when he had grown dark, his testimony had expressed itself in genuine, emotional zeal. Draco decided that maybe, just maybe, attesting it all to a house label was not being fair…to either of them.

He heard the jingle of the guard’s keys, and looked up to see shadows moving down the hall towards him. As he stood, someone rushed to face the bars, and then his mother’s face pressed against them, an arm reaching through for him. “Draco!”

Draco rushed quickly to grab her hand, and leaned his forehead against the cold metal, fighting tears. “Mother!” 

“You only have a few minutes,” the heavyset guard grunted, and moved a few steps away.

“Draco,” she said again breathlessly, her eyes misty with concern boring holes into his own. “I’ve heard whispers, please tell me…”

“Harry Potter testified for me…” he spoke as if he still didn’t believe it, his voice betraying his emotions. “I think it is possible they may drop the case against me!”

Her eyes grew big and she grabbed his shoulders through the bars. “Then it’s true,” she whispered harshly, glancing down briefly, then back up at him, eyes widening. “He spoke for me too…” She broke off with a breathless laugh, “He spoke at my hearing, and they dropped the charges!”

Draco’s mouth opened in shock and laughed in joy with her a moment, but then felt his eyebrows knit together and looked into her eyes as a thought touched his heart. “I’m so happy for you mother…we owe him so much now…don’t we.”

Her eyes widened as she seemed to stare into his soul, breathing as if she couldn’t get enough air, then clamped her hands over his cheeks.

“NO, Draco, listen to me. HE was indebted to US!”

He looked at her in confusion.

“Draco, I never told you this because I was too terrified, but Harry never died that night…Voldemort never killed him. He was alive when I bent over him, but I...I LIED…to Lord Voldemort…and told him he was dead!” Tears came to her eyes then. “I did it for you. But if I hadn’t…”

“Oh…” Draco exhaled, and reached through the bars to hug her, knowing the courage it must have taken. “Mother, I lied to him too. When they asked me to identify Harry at the manor. I knew who he was, but I lied.” 

They hugged through the bars for a long moment, and when they finally pulled apart, Draco avoided his mother’s eyes, a thought nagging the back of his head.

“Draco, what is it?”

He looked back up to his mother’s face. “So…he felt obligated to me…to us.”

Her eyes pinched together slightly as she sought Draco’s, and he looked back at her, fearful that the twinge of disappointment his statement carried had been too obvious.

“I…” she began, then studied him again. “No more or less than your feelings of...’obligation’...to him,” she answered slowly, and Draco startled at her keen observation and wise words. “Whatever his motivation, I will always be grateful to Harry Potter for what he has done, he will always have a place at our table if he wants it.” Draco smiled slightly, and she continued, “I just don’t want you to feel…guilty, or less than about it. Don’t fall into that trap for one SECOND. This isn’t about ‘us and them,’ it’s about people coming together in a time of crisis, do you understand?”

He had never heard his mother talk in quite this way. “I think so,” he answered.

She pressed a hand to his cheek and said, “This is an opportunity to start over, don’t you see? Truly let the mistakes of the past be in the past, start a new life!”

“I’m truly thankful for that…but,” and he looked down at his shoes. “The Malfoy name is now dirtier than this floor,” and kicked a pebble.

His mother grabbed his chin, tilted his head up, and spoke through clenched teeth. “Draco Malfoy, you may look like your father, but you are MUCH more like me than him, and don’t you EVER forget it! You are going to carry on the Malfoy name and make it good again. It may take some time and doing, but by Merlin you will do it!”

He smiled and blinked back misty tears just as the guard stepped forward. His mother grabbed his hand and kissed it. “I will be waiting to hear good news tomorrow, Draco.” She said with tears as she was moved away from the cell. When he could no longer see her, he heard her voice echo down the hall once more, “I love you Draco!”

He held both hands tightly around the bars, and let tears fall freely down his face as the emotion and of the day finally took its toll. They were tears of relief, tears of anxiety for the unknown, tears of grief for the man who was his father, tears of thankfulness for his mother, tears of fear that he would never be able to carry on the Malfoy name, and…tears of gratitude.

He turned and wiped his face on the inside of his shirt and did some deep breathing as he sat on the bed. His dinner would be here soon, and he had to get himself together. Yes, he was very grateful to Potter. There was an old temptation that wanted to chafe against that, but it was so weak that it crumbled and faded to nothing. Instead, the little seed of disappointment that Potter was merely fulfilling an obligation sprang up again, but his mother’s words came back to him. Was what he himself feeling mere obligation? Obviously it was more than that…wasn’t it?

The guard lumbered back down to his cell carrying a simple tray with a sandwich, cup of soup, and a glass of pumpkin juice. Balancing the tray on one hand and using the key to open the door with another, he kicked it open and moved to the small desk, placing it on the table. Draco stared at the open door, and suppressed the ridiculous notion to run. 

The guard grunted on the way out, “I’ll be back to collect in twenty,” then locked the door and disappeared again, leaving it quiet.

Draco stared at his meal for a moment, but did not feel hungry; there was too much on his mind. He heard a small noise, and figured one of the mice had come to share his dinner, but when he glanced around saw nothing. A few pebbles on the floor began to move. As he focused on them curiously, suddenly they bounced across the room, and he sprang back on the cot in alarm. What in Merlin…was someone trying to hex him? He looked with panic towards the cell doors.

Floating in front of him was a pair of green eyes set behind a pair of round glasses. Draco stared with open mouth, and blinked…was he seeing things? Then a sliver of a body appeared under the face, and the apparition lifted a finger to its mouth in a shushing motion. Draco leaned forward, incredulous, and concluded it was no apparition.

He felt his nose crinkle as he whispered loudly, “Pottah?”

Harry repeated the shushing motion, then broke into a sheepish grin. 

“What are you DOING here?” Draco asked in disbelief, concluding he must be here under his invisibility cloak.

Harry was still in the clothes he wore at the trial, but he also wore his black robe. He reached with a hand into the folds, and out of habit, Draco flinched slightly as if Potter was reaching for his wand. Harry paused and gave him a ‘really, Malfoy?’ look, and Draco imagined he was wanting to call him a git.

Then Harry carefully pulled out a stack of parchment, and while looking at Draco’s face, lifted the top one and showed it to him to read.

“I’m here to encourage you…you git.” 

Draco covered his mouth to stifle a snort, and they shared a moment of mirth, Potter’s eyes twinkling. Then, sitting down cross legged in front of him, lifted another parchment, which read:

“And don’t you dare call me Saint Potter.”

Draco raised his hand, and twirled a finger in a circle over his head simulating a halo, then pointed at Potter’s chest. He tried to keep his old smirk on his face, but knew he failed, and they grinned at one another.

He raised another parchment which said:

“Careful, or the guards will think you’ve gone loony.”

Draco pointed to himself then and nodded before they broke into silent laughter. The moment was amazing, really, and Draco wondered at the thought that Harry had pre-written these parchments in accurate anticipation of what his responses would be.

They sat for a moment, the air between them full of something undefinable. Watching him, Harry scratched his chest, drawing attention to the shirt, which shimmered even in the darkened cell. Draco was hit with a warmth that settled over his shoulders and enveloped him as it had done in the courtroom. Feeling suddenly a bit breathless, he looked to Harry questioningly, whose cheeks now were spotted with a pink flush. Glancing down at the shirt, he really wanted to ask Potter about it, but seemed too complicated a task without being able to speak.

Harry carefully lifted another page.

“I’m wearing a magic shirt…it is able to make a connection…”

The feeling of warmth continued to flow between them as he lifted the next parchment.

“It doesn’t cast a spell or anything like that. It acts like an extension of the one who wears it. And it only works…”

Harry waited a moment before lifting the next parchment, drawing out the anticipation.

“…with the person whose eye color matches the shirt exactly.”

Draco inhaled a puff of air and looked closer at the material, and the impact hit him as he realized the shirt indeed matched his own eye color perfectly. So…Potter had made a shirt specifically for him…to make a connection with him? That was far more than obligation; this was above and beyond any call of duty.

They continued to stare at one another intently, and Draco wasn’t sure if the feelings that rose in his chest were his own or Potter’s. He hit his chest once with a fist in an acknowledgment of thanks.

Harry raised another parchment.

“I slipped this magic right under the court’s nose. Rather Slytherin of me.”

Draco nodded in agreement and gave him a thumbs up while Harry lifted another page.

“I can…leave when the guard comes back.”

Draco gave a small smile and a nod.

Harry stared and fingered another parchment for a moment, absently creating a dog ear, but then mouthed the word “eat” and under the invisibility cloak pointed to his dinner.

Draco covered his stomach with a hand and shook his head. Harry responded with a determined look and mouthed “eat” again.

Draco mouthed ‘saint Potter’ but reached for his sandwich with a grin and took a small bite.

Harry looked down as if giving him privacy while he ate, and Draco managed to get half his sandwich down and a bit of the soup. He reached for his pumpkin juice, and when Harry glanced up, he lifted the cup high in a toast and mouthed the word “truce.” Harry smiled slightly in acknowledgment and watched him take a long drink. As he finished, lowering the cup, Harry’s eyes pulled him in and he couldn’t look away. Lifting a fist to his mouth to wipe it, their eyes stayed locked and the cell room seemed to spin a moment.

The guard was going to be back any minute. Harry lifted another parchment.

“I’m confident the judge will rule in your favor tomorrow. When you are free, send me an owl anytime. I’d love to talk.”

A dizzying warmth moved through Draco, and he wasn’t sure if it was Harry’s shirt reaching for him or Harry’s eyes as they looked intently at him, both full of fondness and fear. Draco understood, because what he was feeling almost scared him to death. He nodded and mouthed ok, then eyed the dog-eared parchment Harry had been fingering for the last several minutes.

The guard’s footsteps came lumbering down the hall, and Draco frantically pointed to the parchment.

Harry stood quickly, and just as the shadow of the guard breeched the cell door, he showed Draco the last parchment before enclosing himself in the invisibility cloak and disappearing.

The parchment had said, “Or I could stay if you want.”

Draco’s legs had gone to jelly, but he had no time to think about it as the guard bustled through the door with a suspicious glare. “Have you been talking to yourself in here?” He moved to pick up his food tray. “No funny business, or it won’t go well for you, Malfoy.” He said belligerently as he moved to leave the cell, kicking the door shut and locking it behind him, leaving Draco alone again.

“Or I could stay if you want.” The words of the parchment floated in his brain, and he looked around him in the silence, his heart picking up speed at the thought. The only sound was the distant shuffle of the guard and the echo of trickling water near the drain.

Then he whispered, so quiet the mice wouldn’t even hear him, “Potter?”

There was no other sound, no movement of any pebble, just stillness, and he concluded Potter must have been scared off by the guard, no doubt deciding it was too risky to stay. Still, the idea Potter had written out the parchment, had thought about it…Draco smiled slightly in the darkness of the cell at Potter’s hesitation to share it, exposing a vulnerability that actually touched him.

After using the drain to relieve himself, laughing silently at the thought of Potter witnessing such an event, he curled up on his cot to try and sleep…as if. He lay awake reliving every moment of Potter’s testimony, every parchment shared, and then…he felt a warmth settle over his whole being, as if he was being held, but he also felt it moving inside, and he wondered if he was still affected by the shirt Potter had worn or if it was just his own feelings. Or…as he lay awake long into the night, he wondered if Potter had stayed after all? He finally fell into a very peaceful sleep.


	7. The Verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter finds a reflective Draco as he waits for the judges ruling, we get the judge's ruling, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron meet for the first time since the trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope you all enjoy! 🤗

Draco sat apprehensively next to his lawyer in the courtroom, his wrists once again bound, and a guard standing next to him as they waited for the judge to appear. This time there was a group of wizards from the Ministry of Magic sitting in the alcove against the far right wall, many whose faces were familiar. He wasn’t sure if this was a bad or good omen.

The prosecutor on the other side of the room whispered with a few of his counterparts who sat with him, his expression stodgy, and the same court recorder sat primly ay her desk with her quill waiting for proceedings to begin.

Draco had woken that morning with thoughts on his experience with Potter still fluttering on his brain, wondering if it had all been a dream. There had been no sign that he had stayed, but that was probably for the best considering the level of activity in the cell block. As he had prepared for the court meeting, the knowledge that the outcome of today’s decision would determine his whole future had descended upon him in a ball of stress, and the memory of Potter’s parchment, “I have every confidence the judge will rule in your favor,” had gotten him through breakfast.

While waiting for the judge, he did some deep breathing…something he was becoming good at. The courtroom was quite empty compared to the trial previous day; none of the witnesses were there, and the court had not been open to visitors. His mother, however, was allowed to be here, having been cleared at her own hearing, and her hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder.

Finally, the judge appeared from behind a back door, his colorful robes dancing as he made his way to the podium. 

“All rise,” stated a court appointed official, and as one they all stood waiting for the judge to be seated.

He ceremoniously nodded to the court. “You may be seated,” He stated as he sat down himself, and folded his hands as he looked expectantly on the room, waiting for quiet, and his gavel was not needed.

Again, Draco had the same eerie feeling he was looking at his old schoolmaster, causing a multitude of emotions to cascade through him. Every nasty thing he had ever said against Dumbledore flashed shamefully through his brain, and his heart winced…yes, winced…at them.

His confidence that he had come from a family of purebloods, something that made his father, his family, more important, had been at the heart of every insult. He had been born on this platform that had been ingrained in him from the very start of his life. When he had met Potter on that fateful day at Hogwarts, Potter’s rejection of his prejudice had been the catalyst that would begin its unraveling.

Looking back at everything, he could acknowledge now that his seeming hatred for Potter had been nothing more than the desire to be vindicated against the gulf that spread between them, a way to battle his own growing self-doubt as he faced increasing evidence that muggles like Hermione Granger could be, in fact, incredibly talented, and those like Hagrid, could, in fact, possess a variety of qualities…for example, being genuinely concerned with whether one was fatefully injured or not. To acknowledge such evidence would have been to acknowledge that his father was wrong, that his whole upbringing had been wrong, and it was not something he had been able or willing to do as a young teenager. By the time he was able to acknowledge these things and realize his father and family were nothing more than pawns in a very dark and fearfully twisted evil, he had seen no way out for himself. 

The pain and disgust he had experienced after the Dark Lord’s full return, the darkness that had terrified his soul, the true horror of what he had witnessed at the Manor, had all conspired together to prevent his ability to actually follow through with the Dark Lord’s wishes to kill Dumbledore. 

When facing the disfigured Potter at the Manor, he had not viewed the face of an enemy. The face before him that night had been one who had known and defeated dementors, who had faced down the Dark Lord multiple times, the face of one who even in that moment, caught in the clutches of Bellatrix, had looked back at him with a defiant question in his eyes, eyes of bravery, eyes that…had sparked hope in the face of his own disillusioned mind and hopeless fear. There was no way it would have been possible for him to give up Potter’s identity that night, to call the Dark Lord and watch him destroy him. 

He searched his feelings and knew that the grudge against his nemesis had been a shallow one; it had been against a chasm he felt he could never hope to cross, and therefore…never hope to be worthy enough to be included in his inner circle. The truth of it engulfed him now, the truth that he had desperately wanted to be close to The-Boy-Who-Lived. 

“In light of the testimony given yesterday,” the judge began, drawing Draco back into the room, “and with much deliberation, the court has made the decision to drop the charges made against Mr. Draco Malfoy…”

Stunned relief engulfed him and immediately his mother gave a small cry of joy and wrapped her arms around him from behind. His lawyer gave a sigh of satisfaction, and gave his client a pat on the back and shook his hand. Draco blinked his eyes, refusing to shed tears.

The judge now used his gavel once. “There is, however, a condition…” he began, and all eyes turned to him, Draco’s stomach knotting up. “Given Mr. Malfoy’s history and attitude towards half-bloods and muggles, it is the will of this court…and of the Ministry of Magic…” he added, nodding to the group in the alcove, several of the wizards on the panel nodding with reluctant acquiescence, “that Mr. Malfoy serve a term of probation.”

Draco had expected this, and considering the alternative, was not something he minded in the least. 

Then the judge turned to look at Draco and actually said, “Draco, we do not believe you are any kind of assassin.” There didn’t seem to be enough room in Draco’s chest to take a full breath. “This court, and the Ministry of Magic, wish to extend leniency, but to ensure you have truly reformed there will be a period of six months where you will report to Mr. Clarence Peabody.” He turned to the door, and a tall pleasant looking man with auburn hair dressed in wizards’ robes walked through and addressed the court. He nodded towards the defense bench, and stood expectantly next to the podium. 

“Mr. Peabody is a wizard who graduated from a school with a reputation to equal Hogwarts, and has just passed his advanced degree in wizard reform law, successfully acting in the role of probation officer these past two years. He was purposefully chosen from outside the community of Hogwarts to avoid any potential conflict of interests. In addition…he comes from a background of wizards on his mother’s side, and…a family of muggles on his father’s.” He paused, as if to drive the point home this particular PO was to be a test of Draco’s true reform. “Mr. Malfoy will be allowed to go home, but he will be required to meet with Mr. Peabody once a week for the duration of his probation, and complete any assignments he deems necessary, including but not limited to any repair that needs doing post war. His compliance with the meetings and attitudes displayed will all be contributing factors to his transition to a clear record. At the end of successfully completing the six month probation period, Mr. Malfoy will be free to purse whatever manner of occupation he chooses. Does the defense and his client find these terms acceptable?”

Draco’s lawyer stood. “My client and I are in full agreement, your wizardry.” He made a small bow and sat down.

“Good!” The judge smiled, and then addressed Draco directly.

“Draco Malfoy, this court and the Ministry of Magic hereby exonerate you in the matter of The School of Hogwarts and Ministry of Magic vs. Draco Malfoy with the contingency of successful completion of your six-month probation. All those present today will meet again in six months. The details described have been written up and all signatures will be applied upon your exit processing. Before we finish today, I’d like to give you the opportunity to make a statement if you so choose?”

His lawyer had prepared him for this moment, but Draco’s mouth went completely dry, and his heart began pounding in his chest…but speak he must. He stood on rubbery legs and locked eyes with the judge, still unnerved with the feeling he was speaking to Dumbledore. 

“I am both thankful…and humbled, sir…er, your wizardry…to the court and this panel of…and to those who spoke for me yesterday…I’m sorry for…everything, and…” He was in danger of his voice failing him completely, and was loath to fall apart in front of the court. “I will not fail those who put their faith in me, who gave me this chance to…to try and make up for any wrongs my father has done.” He finished in a trembling rush to get all the words out without faltering. “I mean, if that’s possible. I am…I thank you.” He gave a small nod and turned to the panel of wizards and did the same. “I thank you.” He sat back down quickly before his legs buckled, his face flushing with the conviction he had completely bungled his statement. There was no possible way he could articulate what he was feeling.

The judge leaned over his podium and folded his hands over his desk as he responded in a personal tone. “I do not doubt your sincerity, Mr. Malfoy. I encourage you to make good use of this opportunity extended to you, and to fully cooperate with Mr. Peabody. And above all…” the judge paused, and his eyes shone with a twinkle, “please always remember who your true friends are.” He then leaned back, hit his gavel, and stated, “This court is adjourned.” 

*

In the very last booth tucked away in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry sat with the latest copy of The Daily Profit spread before him as he sipped his butterbeer. The headline splashed across the front read: 

“DRACO MALFOY AND NARCISSA BLACK EXONERATED!”

The subheading, “Harry Potter, hero of the battle of Hogwarts, testifies in their favor” spread above a moving picture of Malfoy as he left with his lawyer, the look of relief and wonder quite clear across his face though he tried to hide it from photographers.

Harry smiled as he read the article again with happy relief, noting the stipulations that had been given regarding a probation period. Their choice for a probation officer was interesting, and though he had no clue who Clearance Peabody was, the picture of him included in the article gave him positive vibes. He really wanted to talk to Draco, but had left the ball in his court, and…considering the publicity, perhaps it was wise to lay low for now.

He felt movement beside him and looked up to find Ron and Hermione standing beside the booth. Hermione had a small, worried smile, and Ron stared at the table with a look that said his presence there was due to Hermione’s insistence. Harry motioned to the bench opposite him. “Have a seat.”

They sat down wordlessly with glances at the newspaper, then looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and questioning.

Harry returned their look with determination. “It was the right thing to do,” he stated emphatically. 

Hermione took a breath, then answered, “I understand where you are coming from, Harry,” she began carefully, “I guess I never made the connection that Draco had actually saved us that day. But…”

Ron’s expression became miserable. “I just don’t think that makes up for everything else he has done and said…or the way he made us all to feel.”

“Well, Ron,” he answered pointedly, “perhaps he has a chance to do just that now.”

“So you think he deserves that?”

“Considering we are all sitting here still alive, yes I do!”

Hermione put a hand over Ron’s, and searched Harry’s eyes. “Well, you know I have always been one to support rehabilitation…”

“That’s all fine and good,” Ron interrupted her, “But Harry…mate…you got a bloody tattoo of a snake on your arm! Merlin’s beard…!”

“I needed to make a point, all right? Otherwise they may have convicted him on his tattoo alone...right?” He looked pointedly at Ron.

Again, Ron stared at him in disbelief.

Harry continued, “I don’t believe Draco knew what he was doing. You didn’t see his face as Lucius pressed him to ID me, and I believe he was coerced into any involvement with them. Imagine having Lucius Malfoy for a father!” He had run on with increasing passion, and Hermione and Ron exchanged glances.

Hermione finally said, “I am all for giving second chances, if you are right, and the fact Voldemort is finally gone and defeated indeed puts a whole new spin on things.” She then reached for Harry’s hand, her look softening. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt if Draco…I mean, if your…faith in him…proves to be a misplaced.”

Harry removed his hand. “I appreciate that. But I truly believe he wants to change…to prove himself.”

He hadn’t told them, of course, about his visit to Draco’s cell, or the shirt he had made, and what would they say to THAT if they knew?

“It just seems…so over the top, mate,” Ron stated, as if reading his thoughts.

“Maybe it is.” Harry answered, in a way that told them both he was finished with their inquisition.

An uncomfortable silence brewed for a moment, and Hermione sighed. “Harry, it is just like you, isn’t it? You are so good, aren’t you, to want to see the best in people, and…I am going to just trust that you are right.”

Harry sighed with mild frustration, but at least she was trying. The tension relaxed between them all, with the knowledge that the ties that bound them were stronger than any disagreements they may have. 

“So,” Hermione began, with an air of moving on, “What happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

She pointed to the article. “It says here that part of Malfoy’s rehabilitation…is to help with the post-war rebuilding. Obviously, we are all going to at some point…”

She was interrupted by a sharp pecking at the small window above their booth, and they all looked up to see a large, brown owl staring at them with wide yellow eyes. They shifted to Harry, and it began hooting intently. Attached to its leg was a roll of parchment. Harry’s stomach did some flip-flopping as he stood to raise the window. The owl ruffled its feathers and hooted again as Harry carefully removed the parchment, regretting that he had no treat for him. But upon delivering the parchment, the owl disappeared quickly and flew away into the evening sky.

Harry sat back down slowly, staring at the seal.

”Well? Who is it from?” Ron asked.

“I think I will open it when I get home.”

“Harry!” Hermione urgently whispered loudly. “Who is it from?”

He looked at them both, then answered, “It’s from Draco.”


	8. The Most Powerful Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry helps Draco battle his demons as they finally meet up after the trial, and they both discover something that would change the course of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written with much love. Hope you enjoy!💞

They all stared at the parchment not breathing, and Harry’s hand started to tremble. He quickly place the parchment in his rucksack.

“Thank you for meeting me here, even though I know you are headed back for the Burro.” he said quickly. “But I have to go.”

“We wish you would come with us Harry. It would be good…”

“I can’t.” He stated firmly, and stood to make ready to leave.

“I just want to remind you we are here for you if you need us.”

“I know,” Harry nodded to them both. “I’ll see you later.”

As he made his way quickly past the booths of proprietors, most of them muggles, he was aware of several heads turning to stare at him. He had hoped to avoid scrutiny by meeting at the Leaky Caldron, but even the muggle community at the Caldron knew who he was and read the Daily Prophet. 

The parchment burned in his rucksack. Malfoy had sent him an owl; he had sent him an owl like he asked, and had wasted no time doing so. A mixture of pleasure and anxiety threatened to cut off his air supply.

Knowing his friends would not be at the apartment they were sharing together, once he was outside the Leaky Caldron, he found a quiet place around the corner and quickly apparated home. He still found the experience challenging, but was getting more used to it, and wanted to open the letter as soon as possible. In a moment, he was back in his own living room. He turned and pulling out his wand set a lock seal on the door for good measure.

He went to his bedroom, set the rucksack on his desk, and pulled out the parchment. The Malfoy seal gleamed up at him as he sat down on his bed. Taking a moment to breath, acknowledging his anticipation, he broke the seal and opened the parchment. With shaking hands, he began to read the rather long letter.

“To Harry Potter,

First, let me say that this is probably my twentieth attempt to put my thoughts on paper, maybe more, I’ve lost count. How does Draco Malfoy address the one who gave his life back, when we both know I deserve to be sitting next to my father in Azkaban prison?” 

Harry’s heart began to tremble in his chest as he re-read this paragraph multiple times before continuing.

“To say thank you feels ridiculously inadequate, don’t you agree? I hope you don’t mind getting an owl so soon, but I couldn’t let too much time pass, or I would lose my nerve. Your visit to me in the holding cell meant more than you can possibly imagine, and…just so you know…I would have said yes. In fact, I would have sworn you had stayed, for the effects of your shirt stayed with me long into the night.

I don’t even know how to end this letter, other than to say I would like to talk to you too. If you still feel that way, send me an owl for a time and place and I will be there.

Eternally grateful,

Draco Malfoy”

He read the letter several times, and marveled that after many probable attempts at waxing eloquent, he had settled for simplistic honesty.

He turned and opened his writing desk drawer, pulling out a parchment, quill, and ink, and settled in the chair posed to write a response. He hadn’t anticipated a meeting with Draco this quickly. He felt his nerves travel through him as he thought of a meeting place that would be secure enough. The room of Requirement flashed through his brain, but…perhaps there was too much history there. With some pain, he recalled the night of Dumbledore’s death, and the conversation he had had with a clearly traumatized Draco. The room of requirement would have many bad memories for him.

He looked around, and knowing he had the place to himself for at least another week, and rejecting outright any public meeting place, decided that his apartment would be the best place to meet. He thought of Ron and Hermione, and what would they say if he had gave Draco their address so he could apparate? He brushed the thought aside and began to write, and he felt a pang of loss for Hedwig. He would have to go to the owlery.

*

Malfoy Manor was not what it once had been…at least for Draco. It would never again be a place of pride and elevated status; it represented all the fallacies and mistakes of his past, and though he had some pleasant memories of his early growing up years with his mother, the horrible ghosts of the not-so-distant past still lingered to haunt him. A ball of nauseating sourness clung to his insides in a constant reminder of everything he had witnessed.

Tonight his mother had planned a very quiet gathering of Slytherin friends and acquaintances, including a few parents who had managed to escape the clutches of the Death Eaters and avoid prosecution, though the celebration was punctuated with sadness regarding his father.

Draco stood looking out the large picture window that faced the distant rolling hills…the general direction of Hogwarts and surrounding community…holding a tumbler of fire whiskey. Pansy Parkinson stood next to him, chatting happily, but he wasn’t really listening to her. Behind him he heard his mother as she spoke more hors d’oeuvres into existence, then turn to chat with Goyle’s mother.

Goyle himself approached him, having refilled his own a tumbler, and spoke in a loud, grumbling tone.

“I still can’t believe Potter testified for you,” he chortled. “That was wild.”

Draco took a drink and said nothing, but his insides twisted.

“I mean, did he really get a tattoo of a snake?” He continued in boorish amusement. “I think there must have been some twisted ulterior motive. Does he think we are all friends now?”

Draco felt a cold, disappointing anger flow through him. Here they were, supposedly celebrating the fact he wasn’t rotting in an Azkaban prison cell, and Goyle apparently couldn’t conjure up one ounce of thankfulness. He answered Goyle tightly, “He saved us from the fire in the room of requirement…or had you forgotten that?”

Goyle sputtered a moment. “No…I mean sure. But that’s just his bloody savior complex, he doesn’t give two shits about…”

Draco’s anger rose in his throat. “Shut up, Goyle,” he stated, teeth clenched.

“What…what do you MEAN, shut up? You can’t possibly…”

“I SAID,” Draco began with suppressed rage, then turned to him with a stony glare and finished with quiet menace, “Shut up, Goyle.”

He felt Pansy’s hand on his arm, and she led him a few paces away, glaring at Goyle. “I think it is amazing Potter testified for you Draco, after all, here you are, instead of Azkaban. And what is this about a fire? Please do tell.”

Still angry, he glared at Goyle. “I think Goyle should be the one to tell you about that.” He returned to stare out the window, taking another long drink of the whiskey.

He heard Goyle mutter something behind him about “he’s sounding like Potter now” and Pansy hissed back at him, “Are you completely void of the least drop of sensitivity?” After he responded to Pansy with a “Aren’t you the little hypocrite,” Draco tuned them out once more. 

The distant hills grew dark, and a rising moon cast its glow on the tree tops. Potter must have gotten his owl by now. His insides trembled with trepidation as he worried he may have read Potter wrong about actually wanting to communicate with him after the trial. Perhaps he had just been being congenial? Never the less, his decision to quickly get a letter to Potter and express himself honestly seemed the least he could do after everything Potter had done for him. He wouldn’t allow himself to regret it.

A flicker of something on the horizon caught his eye; as he focused on it, a small speak of white glistened under the moonlight, and he watched it grow bigger. A part of him wondered briefly if it could be something threatening, but as it drew closer, he made out the shape of long wings as it glided over the air currents, the destination of its intent quite obvious. 

Draco lowered his tumbler and stepped closer to the window, his forehead pressed against the glass as his heart sped up in anticipation of what this could be. As the bird drew near, the identifying feathers of a snowy owl became apparent, and its yellow eyes now bore down upon the window where Draco stood. He knew Potter had lost his owl, but here was one that looked very much like Hedwig.

The window was not one he could open. He set his tumbler on the windowsill, and quickly moved through the room to a back door that led to a secret terrace which faced the same direction as the window. He slipped out quietly, shutting the door firmly behind him, and stepped out onto the patio that was surrounded by iron rod fencing. The owl, spotting him, shifted slightly until it landed a bit precariously on the narrow fencing, flapping her wings for balance. Tied to its leg was a roll of parchment.

“Hey…” Draco greeted in a whisper, then hesitantly moved forward. The owl blinked mildly at him and hooted softly. Reaching forward, he carefully untied the parchment, and spontaneously gave a small caress of her feathers, not having a treat to offer her. “Thank you,” he said simply, and she blinked, spreads her wings, and flew back towards the hills the same way she came.

The seal was from Harry Potter. He was very anxious to read the letter, but there was no way he was going to open it in present company. While he had appreciated his mother’s sentiments, it had all felt very strange being around his old Slytherin counterparts after everything that had happened. They all seemed to carry on as if nothing had happened. Pansy had always been a loyal friend, but Goyle and many like him had merely been there as an extension of his prejudices of purebloods and to maintain their feelings of superiority. If Draco had any doubts about that, Goyle had proven today that his association with the Malfoy’s had been perfunctory at best. He would like nothing more than to leave his guests and lock himself in his room to read the parchment. He stuffed it in the pocket of his robe and returned to the party room.

Pansy and Goyle were still bickering, while a few others were helping themselves to the new refreshments. His mother stood watching him as he entered and shut the door behind him, and moved quickly to embrace him in a hug. Mildly puzzled but not complaining, he hugged her back, then she whispered in his ear. “Was that an owl from Harry Potter?” 

He paused, aware that she had been watching him, then nodded against her cheek. He pulled back finally, avoiding her intent gaze, and she promptly turned to the guests.

“Everyone!” She called, getting their attention. “My son is very thankful to you all for being here. But he is still recovering from his stressful experience, and I’m sure you all understand if he needs to retire early.” 

They faced her in mild surprise, but quickly voiced their understanding of the situation, and of course Draco needed his rest. Draco thanked them quickly, ignoring Goyle’s gaping glare, kissed his mother, and slipped out of the room before anyone could accost him. Behind him he heard Pansy whisper loudly “This is all your fault, Goyle” and he made a hasty retreat up the back stairs to his room. 

Putting a locking spell on the door, he bounced onto the bed and loosened his tie, tearing it off before eagerly opening the seal. He began to read.

“Draco Malfoy,

“Very pleased to get an owl from you…thank you for such an honest letter. I was very happy to hear the great news, and any part I had to play in it…I am glad for that also. It is much more than the fact you bought us time by not identifying me…I …well…I completely agree with you that words on parchment are indeed inadequate. Yes, I would still like to speak with you in person. 

Trying to come up with a secure, appropriate place to meet, I ultimately chose for us to just meet at the place where I am staying. Nobody else is staying here right now, so I hope that is okay with you. If you are in agreement, I have enclosed the coordinates’ code to appirate if you choose, to meet me at 4pm tomorrow. I will be waiting.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter”

Draco removed his robes and clothes, slipped into bed parchment in hand, and stared at the ceiling a moment before reading the letter again. “It is much more than the fact you bought us time.” What did he mean? Obviously something he felt he couldn’t say in a letter, and several possibilities came to him unbidden. He felt his face flush as a now-familiar warmth filled his chest, and he chastised himself severely. What was wrong with him? He thought of Pansy and all the times she had flirted with him, and while he had enjoyed her attentions, he had never felt…

He was just very grateful to Potter for reaching out as he had, obviously, and the idea of them being on the same side, of actually communicating the way they had been, was just such a new thing for him that naturally he would be feeling rather overwhelmed. His emotions reminded him of the horrible night he had stood shaking in front of Professor Dumbledore and the conversation they had had…the old school master reaching out for him speaking of mercy, of helping him. While he understood now that he was buying time for Severus Snape to appear, he knew Dumbledore had meant every word, and surprising tears filled his eyes; he let one trickle down his cheek. Perhaps it was just this kind of thing Potter meant. 

Regardless, he had everything to be grateful for, he had his life back. He would be meeting his probation officer this Saturday for the first time, and while nervous, was determined to not let any old prejudices get in the way of his road to full redemption. And then he would be free…free to…to do what, exactly? What was he going to do with the life he had been given? 

One thing at a time, a voice said inside his head. You don’t have to figure everything out right now. He turned on his side, and finally tried to sleep, but it was long coming…Harry Potter’s letter was engrained in his thoughts. Wherever his life took him, it would start tomorrow at 4pm.

*

At exactly 4pm the next day, Draco appeared suddenly outside the small building at apartment number 10, the address given him in Potter’s letter. He brushed off his garments…he had chosen to wear his Slytherin robes rather than the black he had come to associate with the mark…and nervously smoothed down his gelled hair with the palm of his hand. There was an acute heightened awareness of every nerve cell in his body, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Harry was wearing his magic shirt. He couldn’t spend too much time thinking about it…he didn’t want to appear to be just loitering on the on the doorstep.

Glancing around quickly, he used the large brass ring to knock on the door, and his nerves wracked up a notch as he heard footsteps approaching. The door opened, and Harry himself stood in front of him, a pleased side grin on his face. Potter’s presence seemed to splash over him and his knees suddenly felt weak. Other than the trial and visit to his cell, the last time they had been in one another’s company was the day he had been saved by the fire. So much had happened since then. 

Harry was wearing a cream linen button down, open at the collar, the sleeve cuffs turned up once, the rounded shirt hem flowing past his hips. He stood there a moment, green eyes dancing from behind familiar rounded glasses, his raven hair slightly rumpled, then his smile widened and he stepped back holding the door open. “Come in,” he said, motioning with his arm, and Draco stepped over the threshold, his heart a bit in his throat. He glanced around while Harry closed the door.

The room had the look of just being tidied, but there was an immediate sense of warmth about the place. Soft lamplight burned from little alcoves around the walls, which reflected off the oak wood floors. A set of bookshelves lined the rear wall, and he recognized many of the Hogwarts textbooks. A framed photograph stood on each shelf, one of a youngish couple Draco guessed to be Potter’s parents, the other…Professor Dumbledore. A flash of emotion struck his chest.

The furniture consisted of a soft, overstuffed sofa and chair, the color which put him in mind of the plants in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse. Situated in front of sofa sat a coffee table, and on it stood two goblets and a bottle of wine. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in a more inviting room.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Potter said, moving towards the sofa and motioning to the chair. Draco thought he may have sounded a bit breathless. “Have a seat.”

Draco, still feeling very tongue tied, sat on the chair and shimmied back, finding the cushions most comfortable. “Thank you,” he finally spoke, “for inviting me.”

“I know it’s not exactly Malfoy Manor,” Harry began apologetically, perhaps a bit nervous, settling on the side of the sofa nearest Draco.

Draco blinked at him a moment, then found his tongue and blurted, “The Manor is cold and full of ghosts.” He felt an immediate panic; he hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean…I…” He began nervously rubbing his hands together. 

‘I’m so sorry…” Harry spoke in a mild rush. “I’m an idiot. I can only imagine what it was like, Draco.”

Draco. He had called him Draco, and the rest of the sentence was forgotten. Hearing him use his given name spoken in such a tone was completely arresting. He glanced around to see if the “shirt” was in the vicinity, for it had had a similar affect.

Draco had been a bit conflicted about how he would address him. While using their surnames in the holding cell had been natural banter, this meeting felt very different, and using “Potter” would just…feel wrong. He had never, however, called him “Harry” before in his life…somehow the thought was strangely frightening. But…Harry Potter had called him Draco, like it was the most natural thing.

Harry lifted the bottle of wine and turned it so he could see the label, an old red vintage. “I was saving this. Tonight seems a good night,” and began to break the seal. Draco watched and listened, and something about it caused a growing unease. How was it that he, Draco Malfoy, was sitting in the lovely home of Harry Potter, being served wine? He thought about where he could be tonight…where he should be. He watched as Harry began filling the goblets, happily smiling to himself, and Draco’s emotions continued to rumble. He wasn’t going to be able to just smile and drink wine…at least not until he expressed himself.

“I meant what I said in the letter,” He said suddenly, “I don’t deserve to be here.” Harry halted mid-pour and looked up meeting his eyes, mouth slightly open. Draco maintained eye contact as he continued. “You and I both know I’m responsible for the vanishing cabinet that allowed the…the Mark to infiltrate Hogwarts.” 

They remained frozen a moment, Harry looking as though he had been hexed, but then he finished filling the goblets, set the bottle down carefully, and studied him with a look akin to sorrow.

“If I’m not mistaken, they were threatening your life and that of your whole family.”

Draco felt his insides twist. “How do you know that?”

Harry broke eye contact and hesitated, absently running a finger around the rim of his goblet. Draco tried to school his expression as a new thought pierced him, and then Harry looked him in the eye again and confirmed his fears.

“”I…” he began, hesitating, then pushed forward. “I was there with Dumbledore on the night you disarmed him.”

The scene flashed through Draco’s mind and he tried desperately to push down the feeling of humiliation that threatened to overwhelm him. 

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Harry continued earnestly, “but Dumbledore hexed me into a frozen state under the invisibility cloak, and I couldn’t move.”

An old demon rose up that Draco hadn’t expected to battle so soon, and he tried again desperately to beat it down, but felt his jaw clench and cheeks flush.

Harry searched his eyes with concern. “I’m only telling you this because I want to be honest with you about everything.”

The word “naturally” came to Draco’s mind unbidden, and before he knew what he was doing, he stood up briskly and faced him, speaking with an angry cry. 

“It’s not pity that I need from you, Potter!” 

He stopped cold at what he had just said, breathing heavily, because there it was…the heart he had guarded even from himself, now sprawled in the open all over his sleeve. He turned as if to flee, but felt Potter’s hand suddenly curl gently around his near wrist, saying, “Please…” Draco turned back and felt his eyebrows knit together in shock as he watched Harry plead with his eyes, tears at the corners. “I don’t pity you…please don’t go.”

He stood trembling, then opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His heart ached as it pounded in his chest. He glanced down again at Harry’s hand, which was still holding his wrist; not so tight that he couldn’t pull away easily, but gently, imploring. Then his eyes were drawn to the outline of the Boa Constructor tattoo, easily seen beneath the linen gauze material of his sleeve, and he was reminded with a jolt…Potter had permanently marked his arm in order to save him.

He looked back up and felt tears sting his own eyes as they met Potter’s again, and a new sort of pain welled up in him. “I’m sorry,” he heard himself whisper, then his face crumbled, “I’m sorry Harry, I’m sorry.” He kept repeating the phrase and allowed Potter to pull him over to the sofa next to him. Suddenly it was as though all the anger, pain, fear, and loneliness of the last seven years found their moment of release, and the dam broke. He wasn’t sure at what point Harry wrapped his arms around him, but found that his shoulder was a very good place to cry on, and wept freely as Harry held him. “It’s all right, Draco,” he heard Harry say, “Let it all out.” And he did.

*

It was quite some time later before they finally got to their wine. They were both still on the sofa, sitting sideways facing each other holding their goblets, one of Draco’s legs propped up underneath him, his robes cast aside. Harry had spelled up some chocolate gold snitches, which sat in a large bowl on the coffee table. 

Draco sniffed, and he knew his face must be blotchy and puffy, his eyes red. As Harry raised his goblet to his nose before tasting, Draco watched him and narrowed his eyes in a playful smirk. 

“You realize, of course, that I’m going to have to kill you now, Potter.” He said slyly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Where’s my wand,” he asked distractedly as he leaned over pretending to search for it. He felt a chocolate snitch bounce off his head, and he sat up again and they chuckled at each other. He had never felt so light and free in his life.

They each tasted their wine, staring at each other over the rims, then Draco nodded with approval, tapping the edge of his goblet. “This is very good.” Harry smiled at him and he felt his cheeks flush with a warmth that spread through him.

Then, mostly to offset his feeling of being flustered, he said, “Seriously, though…I’d hate to have people know I spent an hour bawling in your arms.” He smiled at harry then stared down into his goblet.

“Draco.” He looked up to find Harry leaning closely towards him, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I am looking at someone I have come to respect a great deal.” Draco searched his eyes and found nothing but sincerity in them. The problem, he realized suddenly, was that he had never respected himself. How could he believe somebody else really could?”

The question must have reached his eyes, because Harry started checking off a list.

“For one thing,” he told him, “You had lowered your wand that night. Every time I think of that, I’m filled with pride.”

Draco felt himself flush again, and Harry’s words and proximity were making it very hard to breath. He shook his head slightly. “But I was just terrified. I was shaking like a baby and scared to death.”

Harry lowered his goblet of wine, and inched closer to him, his face a mere foot away, eyes glistening. “It was not fear that stopped you that night, Draco.”

Draco’s breath caught short as he held the gaze of his old nemesis, and he searched his mind for what he could mean. He recalled his very own thoughts from the previous night as he lay in bed and shed tears for his old school master. He remembered his thoughts and feelings conjured up by the likeness of the trial judge, including the last words he had spoken to him. “Always remember who your true friends are.”

He felt his face relax in sudden understanding as the truth of what Harry was trying to say dawned on him, and the impact of that truth caused his eyes to mist once more. Harry, watching him intently, nodded at him and said “Exactly.” (And at this point he knew the magic shirt would never be needed again, because why would he need that when Harry was right here?) 

Harry raised his goblet, and Draco mirrored his gesture as they clinked their goblets together in a toast. “Here’s to the most powerful weapon of all,” Harry said with feeling. 

Draco’s heart pounded as Harry drew his face close, their noses almost touching. Harry set his goblet down; his eyes shown with a look that sent a buzzing electricity through his body, and a yearning pulled through him that was almost painful. He felt Harry’s breath speed up in little puffs that caressed his face, and then Harry’s lips were on his. Draco closed his eyes and leaned into the warm wetness, a dizzying explosion pounding in his head, and was flooded with sensations he had never before experienced with another person. Harry finally pulled back, their eyes locked in mild shock and wonder, their breathe moving against one another. Draco rested his forehead on Harry’s, and reached up to touch his face, then leaned in to kiss him again, the sweetness of his lips overwhelming him with joy. 

When they moved apart again, Harry held his face in his hands and smiled. “Love. The most powerful weapon of all.”


	9. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco are just coming to terms with the shift in their relationship, and this chapter reflects my attempt to show the shy tenderness of it all, if that makes sense. Also Draco and Narcissa’s bond is a thread that keeps surfacing. Thank you for reading!💞

Draco’s breath caught as the green eyes drew him in, his heart spreading up against his chest..

“Love?” he trembled softly. He had just shared a kiss with Potter…Harry Potter…it was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Exhilarating because he had never experienced a kiss like it; terrifying because he had never before kissed another man, and these two truths rolled over him like an ocean wave.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, his breath like a caress. His face suddenly went a bit pink, and he leaned back against the sofa still facing him, an arm stretched behind Draco on the back. “One of the great lessons of Professor Dumbledore. He told me that is why I ultimately had victory over ‘you know who.’ And I believe that is what happened with you too.” 

Draco tried to slow his breathing. “Wow, that’s…Professor Dumbledore, right, that’s…he reached out to me, didn’t he?” He forced his mind to leave the kiss and go back to that night. “He knew what was going to happen to him, but it’s like he wanted to let me know he…he believed in me before…” 

Harry was smiling at him, and the pride and warmth that flowed from his expression in waves was very distracting and he couldn’t complete his thoughts.

“I believe in you too…” Then Harry looked down and his blush deepened, suddenly appearing flustered, and Draco found himself very endeared by his display of vulnerability. Was he experiencing the same mixed feelings of adoration, fear, and questioning that he was? The thought was strangely comforting…maybe not so strange.

Harry reached for his wine and they sat there close together sipping from their goblets. He would be lying to himself if every time Harry took a sip and licked his lips he said he didn’t want to kiss them again, but perhaps Harry’s kiss had just been a spontaneous gesture as he was caught up in a very emotional moment? Then he laughed to himself because no...and it didn’t feel that way each time they made eye contact. Draco decided to just enjoy the proximity and the incredible feelings that flowed between them.

Harry refilled their wine goblets, then asked suddenly with a look of fondness, “Do you remember our first day of flying lessons?”

“Of course,” Draco scoffed very softly. “I was a right git.” 

“When I was first learning to try and conjure up my patronus, that is the memory I chose.”

Mild surprise touched Draco, and they exchanged a look of warm humor, but it one of those moments of eye contact which filled Draco with an undeniable, yet undefinable yearning. 

“Did it work?” Draco asked with a grin and raised eyebrows.

“Well…I ended up using a memory of my parents.” 

They both smiled into the goblets, Draco’s insides tumbling in a whirl of emotion, and he took a long sip of his wine so as not to spill any; he started to feel the buzz of its effects.

“You know,” he began, lifting his goblet slightly, feeling the need to lighten the moment, “If we are going down memory lane, what about that time in Snape’s class when Hermione Granger knew everything and you knew nothing…”

Harry grabbed a snitch and playfully chucked it at him, and then Draco’s wine did spill a little as he raised his hips up slightly to reach for where it had fallen. He had planned to throw it back, but upon looking up at Harry’s expression, decided to unwrap it and pop the whole thing in his mouth. Harry eyes widened as Draco giggled again, making short work of the snitch, and wiping chocolate from his lips. “Ha ha,” he laughed, “You have the same look you did that day in Hagrid’s class…” 

“Fine,” Harry stated with mock offense, and snatched another for himself. “I seem to remember something else that day in Hagrid’s class…” He slowly untwisted the wrapper and narrowed his eyes with a grin. “The way you came strutting for me...” He bit off part of the chocolate and let it melt in his mouth.

Draco had taken another drink of wine, coming to the bottom of the goblet, but he choked on it and sputtered down his shirt. His hand went to his mouth and chest, then he pointed at him, grinning. “Oh, you...I believe you started it, Potter, the way you came at me with your ‘Shut UP Malfoy,’ how could I resist you?” Then he laughed softly. “You should have seen the look on your face.”

They smiled at one another, Draco feeling the warmth of the moment, the heat from the wine, Harry’s arm wonderfully close to his neck, their legs nearly touching…

Harry got up then “to fetch another bottle of wine” and sat back down to refill their goblets. 

They spent the next hour trading anecdotes, teasing, eating chocolate snitches, and getting nearly drunk on wine. Draco supposed he hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in his whole entire life, but eventually felt himself grow increasingly, pleasantly sleepy. He finally lay back on the sofa, his head locating the corner pillow while promptly raising his legs across Potter’s lap. He continued to giggle in a hopeless buzz, his eyes closed. His lids felt very heavy, until he felt fingers tickle his bangs across his forehead. 

He worked his eyelids open to see Harry leaning close, pulling back fingers from his face, his green eyes full of…

“Did you just play with my hair, Potter?” He asked sleepily. “Because you can if you want.” He worked hard to keep one eye open as he heard Harry’s little intake of air and watched him lean back on the couch. He opened both eyes as he made eye contact, a knowing, sleepy smirk spreading his face. “Scared, Potter?” He spoke once more before closing his eyes and finally giving in to asleep.

*

Sunlight poked through Harry’s window and tickled his face. He stirred and his eyes finally flickered open; he lay there a moment, then remembered everything that had happened the night before. Draco. Would he remember the fact he had fallen asleep next to him on the sofa before waking and going back to his room? Was he still on the couch, or had he left during the night?

He sat up quickly and got up to dig a tee shirt from his drawer, pulling it over his head. He paused, then went to the bathroom to do his morning routine, looking in the mirror to try and adjust his hair, brushing his teeth. He walked softly down the hall to the living room and peered around the corner. Draco lay sprawled in the sofa, still in his clothes, a blanket half way covering him. He still slept soundly, a small, peaceful smile on his face, his blond hair dancing delightedly across his brow. Harry watched him a moment, affection and something else filling him.

He tip-toed to the kitchen and started preparations for breakfast, whipping up a spell to get the coffee going and digging eggs from the fridge. He paused, then decided he would fry up the eggs himself. Grabbing a pan from the stove he turned the burner on and proceeded to crack eggs one by one as visions from the night before flashed in front of him. Draco panicking in front of him his vulnerability exposed, Draco crying in his arms letting all his pain out, Draco as he kissed him in a way nobody had ever kissed him…his face flushed as he began stirring the eggs by hand with a spatula, his chest filling with renewed wonder.

*

Draco woke to the smell of coffee and the sounds of the sizzle of something cooking, the scrape of metal against pan. He opened his eyes and looked around, his senses adjusting to where he was. That’s right…he was still at Harry Potter’s apartment. Wow. He blinked, the memory of his dream coming back to him. The feel of Harry lying next to him was still there, butterfly kisses against his cheek. It still felt incredibly real...had it been a dream?

He pulled the blanket off and sat up, noting the empty wine bottle, goblets, and bowel full of empty chocolate snitch wrappers. Memories of the night before flooded him and felt a deep flush spread up his neck. He smiled to himself, but then wondered…would Harry have any regrets this morning?

His mouth was dry, and he dug in his robe pocket for a magic mouth ball, thankful it was still there before shuffling to the kitchen, and quietly leaned in the door jamb watching Harry stir up eggs by the stove. His hair poked up hopelessly, a pleasant little smile moving across his face as he flipped the eggs around this way and that, not looking regretful in the slightest, and Draco recalled the feelings the lips of that smile had inspired in him. Harry suddenly looked up at him, and he felt his cheeks go pink as they smiled at one another sheepishly.

“Good morning.” Harry’s grin widened. “Hope you’re hungry.” 

Draco moved his hand over his stomach and smiled back. “I am now.” 

“Have a seat,” Harry pointed to the table, then spoke a spell and dishes sprang out of the cupboard and the table was set with plates, silverware, and coffee cups. Draco sat down and immediately the coffee pot moved to hover and pour the dark liquid into his cup, and then Harry’s, the aroma filling the kitchen. “Cream and sugar?” he asked.

“Please. Wow,” Draco added, “You actually made me breakfast.”

Harry brought the pan over himself and scooped eggs on both their plates. “I just felt inspired this morning.” He set the pan back down and sat at the table across from Draco.

They exchanged shy grins, both of them now poised with forks in their hands, and they each scooped a mouthful and began eating. The polite morning conversation so far belied the emotion that fluttered in Draco’s heart...he still couldn’t believe what had happened, including the pouring out of his soul the previous night. Even more amazing was the feeling of freedom he had experienced and the fact that it was still with him now. 

“So…” they both began at the same time, then giggled.

Draco glanced at Harry’s left arm, the Boa tattoo now gleaming in full capacity down Harry’s arm beyond the sleeve of his tee. He noted the inscription the judge had read, “Born in captivity.”

“Did I mention how amazing you were at my trial?” Draco suddenly said with feeling, and nodded to his arm. “I still can’t believe…”

Harry set down his fork and Draco watched as he ran his hand slowly over the tattoo. ‘It’s interesting how everything turned out, actually,” he began, looking back up at him. “You know I had intended on speaking for you at your hearing.”

“You were?”

Harry nodded, scooping more eggs. “Of course. I even had a little chat with my picture of Dumbledore about it.” He leaned forward. “And I kid you not, when I told him I knew he would understand, he nodded and winked at me.” 

“Stop, he did not.”

“He did. But then the prosecutor was at our door with a summons, which stated that I couldn’t attend the hearing. I was so angry, Ron and Hermione…” he paused as Draco blinked at him, and decided he didn’t need to tell the whole story. “Let’s just say I knew the prosecution would make an issue about your mark, and I was so upset the court was making me testify against you that I decided then and there the best way to thwart them.” He grinned at the memory of the frustrated Mr. Henderson. 

“You sure did that,” Draco answered sipping his coffee, and had an inkling of what went down that night between harry and his friends. “Is it…is it really a permanent…”

Harry nodded, and they made eye contact for several moments, the implications of such a thing sending thoughts flowing between them.

“Does…” Draco began, “Um…how do your friends feel about…” 

“Well…they are coming to an understanding of why I did what I did.”

They both turned as a loud pecking rapped at the door. They looked at each other, and both said, “Owl.” They got up from the table and went to the door, Harry opening it to find a large brown eagle owl fluttering on the doorstep, hooting at them with large intense eyes.

Harry approached carefully, removing the parchment, and the owl wasted no time raising its wings to launch itself into the air. Harry glanced at the seal and looked back up at Draco. “It’s from Malfoy Manor.” 

They looked at each other. “Go ahead and open it,” Draco finally said.

Harry broke the seal and glanced briefly at the letter, then handed it to Draco. “It’s for you.”

Draco read it briefly, then rolled it up again. “From mother, reminding me I’m supposed to be at home.” They stood looking at one another, everything that had transpired between them filling the air.

“I suppose I should be getting on then,” Draco said with regret, and reached for the robes that were still carelessly thrown across the chair.

“The last thing I would want is for you to be in trouble,” Harry agreed, as Draco slipped his robes over his wrinkled, wine stained shirt. “When do you meet with your probation officer?”

”This Saturday.”

“And you will be helping with the post-war rebuilding?”

“Apparently. I don’t know in what capacity…”

“Perhaps we will be on the same project? Will you let me know?”

Draco looked at him, his heart rising in his chest. “That would be nice. I’m not sure how people will feel about me…”

“I have confidence it will work out. Just ignore any nay-sayers. They will come to see what I see…”

Draco’s heart gave a little twist. “Okay…I will send an owl when I know where I will be…” He took a moment to adjust his robes before moving to place a hand on the door latch.

“And Draco…” Harry spoke hesitantly, and he looked at him.

“If you ever need….to, you know, get away…you can always come back for a visit…”

“Okay,” Draco breathed. 

Draco’s heart was full of feelings and questions. What exactly was the nature of their relationship? What happens next? There were obviously strong feelings between them, but what did it mean exactly?

The voice in his head spoke to him again. “You don’t have to figure it out all now. Patience.” 

“I just want you to know,” he said finally, their eyes locked on one another, “That yesterday was the best day of my life.” 

Harry smiled and tears suddenly swam in them. The next thing Draco knew, Harry had wrapped his arms around him. He hugged him back, his eyes shut tight, and they stood locked in an embrace for several moments. They pulled away and Draco opened the door, but before leaving he reached over and planted a kiss on Harry’s lips, and marveled at his bravery. It was rewarded when he felt Harry respond, his lips opening against his, the sweet softness sending waves of pleasure through him. 

Then he was out the door, but before apparating home, he leaned against it, eyes shut, longing flooding him.

“Oh Merlin,” he said to himself painfully, then dug for his wand.

*

Draco breezed through the door of the Manor and made his way to the kitchen area where he suspected his mother would be. Somehow the Manor had lost some of its dreary cold edge. 

“Draco!” she exclaimed when she saw him, and he stood a moment still feeling like he was catching his breath before moving towards her and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Good morning mother!”

“Draco, I was a bit worried when you didn’t come home last night…I got an owl from the legal offices with more details about your meeting and I...”

“Oh…okay,” he nodded.

She reached over and placed a hand on his forehead. “You seem a bit flushed, are you all right?”

“Everything is fine, no worries,” he grinned and moved towards the pot of tea that was still steeping. He inhaled the aroma, and turned to her still smiling. “I was with Harry.” 

Narcissa watched him as he poured himself a cup of tea and glanced at his rumpled hair. “Harry?” She asked, eyes moving to his wine-stained shirt. She reached for her wand and waved away the stain.

He leaned against the counter a moment and smiled. “Yeah,” he answered simply, sipping the flavorful brew. 

She sipped her own cup, staring over the rim, then set it down. “Are you hungry? I can whip up something.”

“That’s okay, I’ve had breakfast, but thanks.”

“You seem…I’ve never seen you smile so much in the morning…” She said it in a way Draco knew she liked the change, but there was a questioning lilt in her voice.

Draco turned around, found the sugar bowl and scooped a spoonful in his tea giving it a stir. “I just…Harry and I had some catching up to do that’s all…it was...very freeing.”

Narcissa said nothing, but he felt her eyes on his back as he finished stirring and set the spoon down. 

“Well,” Draco sing-singed, “I better go clean up...” 

“Are these overnights going to become a habit?” She asked softly. 

He froze a moment, staring into his tea. “Mother…” he began, and came ‘this’ close to telling her he would like nothing better. He didn’t, but there was also no point in abjectly denying her implications. 

“The only reason I ask that,” She continued carefully, “Is because…” The she hesitated and rubbed his back. “You’re on probation, and I don’t want you…either of you…to get hurt.” 

Draco swirled his tea watching the dark liquid swirl in the cup. “I know,” he answered, taking a long sip and setting the cup down. “We understand all that, but yesterday we…Harry Potter and me, we talked about old times, we drank wine, we laughed, we even cried, we…” And he had to stop because tears threatened to spill again. He felt his mother’s hands on his shoulders and she turned him around to face him; he smiled at her through his tears. “I wouldn’t trade last night for anything.” She engulfed him in a mama bear hug, and he spoke into her shoulder, “We agree we have to be careful, otherwise I wouldn’t be in this kitchen right now. I came as soon as I got your owl, didn’t I? But I needed last night, mother, I feel like I can face everything now.” 

He pulled back and saw her crying too. “I know you will!” She said tearfully, and poked his chest, “Because you are Draco, you are my son!” Then she reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek. “I’m so glad you had a good day. I am very grateful.” Then she stepped away wiping her own cheek with a deep sigh. “Okay, I feel better now after our chat…it always helps to talk things out, doesn’t it?”

“It does” He smiled at her. “Mom…thanks.” 

“I love you. Now go ahead and clean up, change, take a nap if you need one.”

She watched as he bounced through the kitchen towards the hall that led to the stairs.

“I love you too!” He called back.

He marched up to his room, stripped his clothes off, and got into bed; he would shower later. The emotional upheaval he had experienced in the last fifteen or so hours were taking their toll. He hugged his pillow to himself tightly and screamed into it a little, longing filling him, wondering when he would see Potter again. It would not be soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I admit this chapter took some thought, and I wrote a few different versions of how this would go. (some of which I’m saving for later ;) Hope you can appreciate my attempt to show a natural build up genuine feeling, character, and pining. Yes, I was a bit self-indulgent in my nod to some favorite scenes from the movies! Patience my dear readers! Also, I moved my chapters around so the prelude is first; yea! (Btw, I’m working on a better name for this chapter) Hope you enjoy!


	10. The Room of the Redeemed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco goes to the room of requirement to exorcise more ghosts, and by the end of his visit the room becomes christened in a way that it would never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter with love, and I just hope I did it justice!

Draco lay in his bed catching his breath, coming down, his dampened sheets tangled around his legs. He extracted them one by one and sat up, running a hand over his warm, sweaty face, and finally stood and headed for the shower, turning it to a lukewarm setting. He stood letting the water run through his hair and onto his body. As he soaped himself down, thoughts of Harry still burned, and he wondered, as he had all week, if he had been...thinking of him too.

It was Friday morning, the last day before meeting his probation officer; it had been a long week, but today there were heightened nerves as the meeting was fast approaching. The parchment from the legal offices had left additional instructions on what to wear, and he wasn’t sure what that meant. 

He had effectively put to rest the haunting ghosts of the Manor, but the reality of possibly facing real people he had hurt was somewhat scarier. There may be a way to strengthen his courage, something that had been on his mind for a couple days. There were other ghosts he needed to confront, and there was only one way he could do that. The thought unnerved him, but he had to face it, had to do it, before meeting with his probation officer. 

He stepped out of the shower and used a towel to wipe off before throwing on a robe...for some reason, he found that manually doing things rather than using his wand had a therapeutic effect on him. Having made up his mind what he was going to do, there was a letter that needed writing first. He hadn’t shared an owl with Harry since the night in his apartment, and he felt a strong need to send him a parchment before leaving the Manor. It’s not that he was going to ask anything of him...but...he needed desperately to communicate. 

Rubbing the wetness from his hair once more with a towel and tossing it aside, he moved to his writing desk, leaving moist footprints in his wake. He pulled out parchment, ink, and quill, and began to write.

“Harry,  
Thank you so much for everything the other night. I so appreciate all that…”

He stopped writing and stared at the words, then made an audible growl, scrunched it up into a tiny ball, and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Bloody hell,” he breathed, pinching forefinger and thumb over his eyes.

He pulled up another empty sheet, took a deep breath, and began again:

“Harry,

To say that I’ve missed you would be the understatement of the century. I mean...I’ve really been missing you.

I’m meeting my probation officer tomorrow and he left instructions that I may wear my robe but to ‘dress comfortably.’ I’m thinking he is going to take me to the site we will be working, but I know not where...I’ll let you know where I’ll be working when I find out, like we discussed.

There is something I have to do today to prepare for my meeting tomorrow...something personal I mean, not legal. I have a few more ghosts to confront. I don’t want to bother you with it, but just had to let you know, and to tell you I’m thinking of you.

Hope all is well with you,

Yours, Draco”

He rolled it up and used a spell to put the Malfoy seal on it, then found the outer robe he would be wearing and placed it carefully in a deep pocket before getting dressed. Rather than use his mother’s owl, he would go to the local owlery.

*

He apparated to the owlery from his room to avoid the questioning eyes of his mother, and walked in quieting his nerves. Placing his parchment on the desk, he gave instructions where to send it, ignoring the merchant’s intrusive stare. With the transaction complete, he merely said “Thank you” and stepped outside.

Taking a few cleansing breaths, his wand in front of him, he gave the coordinates to apparate to Hogwarts.

He was hoping beyond hope that since the school was not in operation for students there would not be crowds. Luckily, he had been able to apparate directly to the seventh floor, but he would have to walk a ways to get to the spot he wanted. He heard voices echo and immediately pressed himself behind a stone pillar until they disappeared, then made his way quickly down the corridor. 

It was strange being back here, but he knew it was about to get still stranger. Harry’s cloak right now would come in handy, he thought briefly, but thankfully he made it to the hall where the tapestry was still hanging in dusty tears without further incident. He faced the opposite wall and wasted no time repeating the phrase he had practiced in mind.

“I need the room where I fixed the vanishing cabinet and where Harry Potter saved me from the fire.” 

He paced three times in front of the wall, repeating the phrase more urgently each time, and at the end of the third pass, two wide double doors appeared. His relief reflected the fact he hadn’t been sure it would work.

Pressing them open, he stepped inside. The room was long and deep, with stacks of crumbled debris and furniture reaching the tall ceiling creating irregular narrow paths that winded through and around them. He started walking, and immediately, voices and ghosts from the past rose to meet him. He tried to steady the tremor that rumbled through him. 

He stepped over fallen bits that crossed the path, and coughed on rising dust, covering his mouth and nose with his robe to block out the smell of mold and charring. He knew exactly what he was looking for, but was puzzled at not knowing for sure where to look. He continued making his way around the winding paths, then stopped at a familiar juncture. Voices from the past echoed over him.

“You’ve got something of mine; I’d like it back.”

“Why didn’t you tell her...Bellatrix. You knew it was me, but you didn’t say anything...thing...thing.”

He closed his eyes as the memory washed over him, emotions flooding him, but he kept walking, determined to find what he had come for. It had to be close. 

He nearly stumbled over the remains of a charred broom handle, and his ears were suddenly filled with the screams of Crabbe as he fell into a lake of burning fire. The horror of the moment filled him anew, but then felt himself being scooped up astride a broom as he flew through the air, his hands holding onto Harry Potter for dear life. He continued to tremble at the memory, his shirt dampened with sweat, his heart full of regret and thankfulness. 

After pausing to catch his breath, he pressed on, feeling somewhere in his soul he was getting very close, and then braced himself as he saw it...tall and dark standing alone where he had last left it. His footsteps echoed as he drew near, until he finally found himself face to face with the black and gold vanishing cabinet.

He stopped abruptly, a creepy feeling of darkness descending over him. He closed his eyes as a different version of himself entered his mind’s eye. That version was repeating the spell that would open the cabinet to allow the darkness to invade Hogwarts.

“No,” the present Draco thought to himself.

The Draco of the past continued to repeat the dark spell.

He felt himself start to shake and his knees weaken until he crumbled down upon them, sweat popping from the pores on his forehead. “No!” He cried softly, as he continued to shake uncontrollably. An echo of an evil laugh vibrated through his mind, and he covered his head and ears with his arms to try and drown it out, but it continued mercilessly. He cried with a loud voice, “No! Stop! STOP!” 

The evil sound grew louder and pounded against his head, “Ahaha...Ha Ha Ha!”

There were no dementors here, but he felt the ghosts of their presence all the same. 

“I am not that person anymore!” He cried loudly to the ghosts, his voice echoing, his breath coming in gasps. “If I had to do it all over again, I would never do it!”

And the conviction of his statement, the truth of it, started a little spring of strength inside him. The evil laughter lost its edge.

“I am not that person anymore!” He repeated and the spring became a well. “Do you hear? I am NOT THAT PERSON!”

The laughter turned to an angry rage, but began to fade.

Draco lowered his arms to his sides and stood up one leg at a time, facing the cabinet. “I am not that person anymore.” He spoke with quiet, sure resolve. “You were defeated, and you have no power here.”

The echoes of rage continued to fade until they disappeared altogether, leaving nothing but the sound of his own beating heart. He stood listening a moment, his new found strength rising within him.

The cabinet was now just a cabinet, and the well that had grown in him spilled over into a fountain of peaceful victory. He stood there relishing in the moment, in his sense of quiet strength...and then the door of the cabinet began to open. His eyes flashed in surprise and he took a step back.

The white translucent figure of an exotic bird emerged from the cabinet, it’s silent white wings spread in a glow that brightened the whole room before it’s head turned to gaze at him. Draco inhaled a shocking breath as he recognized the form of a Phoenix. It circled over him before landing on top of the cabinet, emitting a sparkling glow, and gave a low bow.

Where had this patronus come from? He had never succeeded in the art of conjuring up patronuses, but he knew that Professor Dumbledore’s patronus had been a Phoenix. The implications left him quite breathless. Had his victorious battle with his ghosts caused it to appear? Or perhaps it had been sent to help him do just that? 

Something in the cabinet caught his eye, and he carefully stepped forward. There was something in it on the shelf. Opening the door wider, he saw a large white feather resting there, and next to it was a piece of paper. He gingerly reached in and picked it up. Written on it in a beautiful scroll was one word: Redeemed.

The Phoenix then rose and slowly faded as it flew away in the direction of the doors to the room.

*

Draco retraced his way back through the rubble in a state of wonder. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he knew he had won a personal victory that would carry him through whatever obstacles he may face during his probation period. He couldn’t wait to talk to Harry about his experience. The thought of Harry sped up his efforts to get to the door so he could get home and see if he had gotten a response from his owl. 

He made one final turn before getting to the door and then stood stalk still. Standing just in front of the door facing him, green eyes wide with expectation, arms to his side, was Harry. He wore jeans and a green sweatshirt, his rucksack resting on the floor.

Draco breathed deeply and his chest filled with a warm, wondrous, shock. 

“I…” Harry began hesitantly. “I hope I’m not bothering you…” 

Draco began slowly walking towards him, and Harry watched, widening eyes locked on his.

“I got your owl, and…” His breathing increased as Draco drew closer.

“I had a feeling this is where you would be; that this is the room you would choose. And I just needed to..” 

Draco stopped a foot in front of him, and Harry’s words ignited the feelings that had already sprung up through his body. He pulled his eyes away to gaze from his neck down to his shoes and back up again. Harry’s eyes flickered with desire, giving him the green light to step closer.

“You said,” Harry now spoke in a broken kind of whisper, “You said you were going to confront more ghosts.” He then lifted his hand to Draco’s hair, gently playing with his bangs. “By the look of you, I’d say you won.”

Draco gently pressed his forehead to Harry’s and they breathed on each other a moment, eyes locked with a growing passionate desire, and it was all Draco needed to reach down with his lips; Harry lifted his face to meet them, his hand now traveling to caress his neck.

Draco placed both hands on Harry’s shoulders and moved to hold his face as their kiss deepened and waves of desire burned through him. Every lonely moment of the past week now rose up to engulf him, and his mouth opened, his tongue gently asking for entrance. Harry’s tongue slipped in to dance with his own, and they explored each other’s mouths, Harry’s tongue hungrily twirling around his own searching every crevice. The effect was a longing of desire that went straight down his belly to his groin, and his hands moved gingerly down to Harry’s waist. Harry stepped closer and Draco felt a hand move down his back. 

Their lips parted a moment and they made eye contact, both of them breathing heavily, eyes full of wonder and questioning. Draco slowly slipped his hands under the hem of Harry’s sweatshirt watching his response. Harry continued to breathe heavily, and pressed his face to his neck, lips and tongue on skin and Merlin that was all Draco needed. His hands moved up Harry’s back and stepped into him until their bodies were flush against each other, and he felt Harry’s growing desire pressed against his. 

“Harry,” he breathed with a rasp into his neck. He felt Harry’s hands slip under his own shirt, almost frantically exploring every inch of his skin. 

“Draco,” he whispered back with an almost painful urgency, and there was no further need for questioning.

Suddenly a bed appeared, knocking shelves out of the way, boxes and pieces of broken furniture bouncing on the floor with a clatter. Soft white sheets and a duvet glistened invitingly, and Draco led Harry by the hand.

They clambered on the bed, hands and knees, and Draco then faced Harry, breathing heavily, and reached for his sweatshirt, slowly pulling it over his head, his glasses bouncing on the sheets. Harry quickly put them back on and drew close. One by one he slowly unbuttoned Draco’s shirt with shaky fingers, cheeks delightfully pink, and ran his hands over his chest, and then they were kissing again, hands exploring every inch of their exposed skin. 

Draco throbbed with increasing need, and his hands moved to Harry’s jeans, slipping them down beneath the fabric to his upper buttocks. A little moan escaped Harry’s mouth and he pulled back, their eye contact reflecting their desire, and Harry glanced down briefly and back up, moving his mouth close to Draco’s. Draco brought his hands around, and while maintaining eye contact reached and unbuttoned Harry’s Jeans then began with the zipper. 

Harry’s eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breath speeding in puffs against Draco’s lips, and he rose onto his knees as Draco slipped his jeans down to his hips. Draco gazed down at Harry's full erection, taking in a sharp breath, his own painfully throbbed against its confinement. He looked back up at Harry, whose cheeks were now fully flushed, but he gently pushed Draco back on the bed, and as Draco finished undressing him, he felt Harry’s hands on his bare waist, sliding down to remove his own pants.

They lay naked back on the bed, Draco rasping “Oh Merlin,” and slowly moved on top of him; Harry’s little gasp of pleasure was enough to fully engorge him. Their erections entwined together, a look of lustful pleasure between them before Draco reached for his lips again. Their hips began to grind against each other, and pleasure rolled through Draco followed by a craving for greater friction. Their lips locked and tongues rolled in a desperate need, and their grinding sped up until Draco finally reached down between Harry’s legs. 

He grasped his full cock and started stroking it, Harry shuddering and letting out a low moan, and then felt Harry reach for him. Draco thought he may pass out as Harry’s hand began rubbing tentatively. 

“Ugh, yes,” he pleaded, then they both began Harry pumping each other in earnest, their legs rubbing together in a desperate dance. Their desire mounted as they pumped faster, little cries of ecstasy against each other’s mouths, and Draco felt the build up of his coming orgasm mount. Harry moaned gruffly and Draco felt teeth against his neck. “Saint Merlin,” Draco breathed and pumped Harry faster until Harry cried his name loudly. “Draco!” 

He felt the warm fluid of Harry’s orgasm spill over his hand, and then he came himself, calling Harry’s name repeatedly as waves of pleasure vibrated from his cock through his entire body, Harry clinging to him, mouth on his chest repeating his name.

As they came down, they both gasped for air, their hands still exploring each other, then intertwined their fingers, the stickiness of their cum a wondrous lubricant. 

They lay there a moment in amazement, Draco on his side pressed next to him, and he raised their still-intertwined hands. His eyes searched Harry’s, and he lowered his mouth to kiss them, licking his lips, smiling at the blush that deepened in Harry’s cheeks. 

“I won’t lie,” Draco finally spoke, still catching his breath. “I’ve been dreaming of this ever since our first kiss...dreaming of you, thinking of you…”

Harry breathed softly against him, and lifted his free hand to caress Draco’s cheek. “Me too.” 

They smiled at each other in renewed wonder, then Harry grinned. “I guess the room of requirement will work after all.”

Draco laughed softly with a question on his face.

“I had originally thought to meet here for our...talk,” Harry chuckled. “But decided against it for...reasons. But those reasons no longer exist.” He moved his face close to Draco’s, his eyes full of pride. 

Draco, feeling his heart would burst, whispered, “Remind me to tell you later about the Phoenix patronus that appeared.”

“What?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Later,” he repeated, leaning to kiss him again, and Draco decided he wouldn’t mind if he never left the room of requirement again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just hopping on here to say after spending most of my free time on this fic during the month I posted, I will be taking a bit of a hiatus to catch up on things I have let slide, prepare for holidays, and maybe pick up some extra shifts at work. I also need to search for some inspiration, but at least I am breaking at a good place! 🤗 This is a celebration of love, and love wins...always!❤️🙏


	11. Clarence Peabody and London Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets his probation officer for the first time, and they visit the site they will be helping to repair, where muggle and wizard alike work together. Draco confronts a few familiar faces and is challenged...this chapter is about Draco finding his own strength, and also discovers something muggle he finds very interesting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for my hiatus! 😄
> 
> Thank you to those who have come back! I hope you enjoyed chapter ten...any feedback you have would be very much appreciated! Please feel free to comment!
> 
> This chapter focuses on the beginning of Draco's probationary period and gives us an insight to his thoughts and feelings. This is very much a Drarry fic, but it is also the journey of Draco's redemption. The two are not mutually exclusive...while Harry does not appear in this chapter (Draco needs an opportunity to grow for himself, as becoming a whole person is important in any relationship) he is never far from Draco's thoughts.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

On Saturday morning Draco stood in front of his probation officer’s door staring at a plaque which read “Clarence Peabody, counselor at law.” Nerves fluttered through his stomach. Would they get along? Did he really want to help him? Would he be able to meet the man’s expectations? Draco hadn’t found clothes in his wardrobe that he felt could be adequately called “comfortable” so he had used his wand to procure them. He wore a pair of jeans and a faded blue sweatshirt underneath his black robes, and he felt a bit odd in them. Well, this was it, he might as well get it over with. He knocked hard on the door.

“Enter!” A voice called from the room.

Draco walked through and saw the man who had been at his last court appearance...Clarence Peabody. He sat with his hands folded in front of him on a large metal desk, small stacks of papers to the side, and wore a pleasant smile. He, too, wore wizard’s robes, but underneath was a muggle sweatshirt. 

He stood when Draco entered and reached across the desk to shake his hand. “I’m Clarence a Peabody. It’s good to meet you Draco Malfoy.” Draco shook his hand and Clarence motioned to a chair that faced his desk. “Have a seat.”

Draco sat tentatively and held tightly to the arms of the chair, looking expectantly at the man waiting for him to start the conversation. 

“Is it ok that I call you Draco?”

Draco paused with mild surprise. “Yes...of course.”

“Good! You may call me Clarence. Thank you for being punctual. I just want to start by saying, the purpose of these meetings is to help you be as successful as possible so that you may have the best chance at being fully cleared.” He paused and smiled at him encouragingly.

Draco smiled weakly back, still flooded with nerves. “Um...thank you.” He studied the man behind the desk, who was not that much older than himself. His hair was an auburn, pushed back and reaching past his ears, his brown eyes wide with an expression of sincerity and curiosity. Draco felt himself relax a bit, 

“I want you to know right off,” Clarence continued, “That nothing we do in the next six months is meant to purposefully bait you or make you uncomfortable. I...my reason for taking you on as a client, while I have never met you until now...is that my gut tells me you have the most potential of anyone I have mentored up to now.” He spoke intently, his eyes on Draco’s.

Taking a deep breath, Draco was almost uncomfortable with the level of confidence the man seemed to extend towards him. He wasn’t used to such sentiments...at least until Harry. Memories from the last few days flashed in his brain and he felt his face flush. “I...thank you.”

“Tell me, Draco...not to put you on the spot...but I want to give you the opportunity to tell me what is it that you hope to accomplish during these six months?”

Draco paused, feeling he was being tested despite the man’s assurances to the contrary, and tried to search himself for an honest answer. “Obviously I want to succeed here to be fully exonerated, but it’s more than that. I want people to know I am not the same man I was...I know people will still be blaming me, and I get that, but...I want them...I want the ministry, the wizarding world to know that I am a changed man.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.” Clarence smiled and leaned back to reach for a parchment. “The reason I asked for comfortable clothes is that I want to take you to a site that is in desperate need of repair. It is a Muggle spot in London that is still a shambles from the war.” He looked up again. “Is that that okay with you? We will bring our wands, but leave our robes behind as we apparate.”

Draco hadn’t really expected a field trip so soon, despite the request for comfortable clothes, but he nodded a bit nervously. “Of course.”

“One moment,” Clarence spoke, raising a finger and pulling out a small, black rectangular object. His fingers began pushing what looked like small buttons, and Draco sat further back in his chair a bit nervously. 

“Don’t worry,” Clarence grinned at him, “this isn’t magic, it’s a muggle thing called a cell phone.”

Draco blinked and tried to get a better look at the object. A loud “ding” chimed from it, and Clarence pressed a button and seemed to be reading a message.

“Ah,” he said, nodding his head, “The London site will be expecting us. There is a private spot we can apparate to out of muggle sight”

Draco couldn’t help himself. “What...you just got a message from someone just like that? Without an owl?”

“It’s something in the electronic muggle world called a cell phone.” He held up the small box so Draco could see the conversation. Draco read the words with a small shock.

“And…” Draco looked at him. “It has nothing to do with magic?”

“Well...the muggles from a century ago might have said yes to that, but no, it is simply a technological advancement on their part, and most convenient, wouldn’t you say?”

“I… yes, definitely.” Draco squirmed a bit, knowing his past self would have openly mocked anything muggle related. But with a new pair of eyes, he could acknowledge that it was a bit ingenious. His mind went to the possibilities this could mean for communicating with Harry. 

“So I felt I wanted to bring you to the site we will be working on this month...just to introduce you and get a feel for what we are doing and who we will be working with. It won’t be a long visit.” He stood. “Are you ready to apparate?”

Draco stood, a bit weak in the knees. “Will there be any other...wizards there?”

Clarence tilted his head. “Perhaps. But they will all look like muggles, as will we.” He slid his robes off. “You may recognize a few faces.”

Draco swallowed and removed his own robes.

“Also, here is a backpack you may use to hold your wand, and some bottled water.” He handed it to him, and Draco looked the thing over, trying to figure out how it worked. He watched Clarence put his own on, then placed his wand in it and copied suite.

“If there are any reactions to your presence...just ignore them. We are on a quest, Draco Malfoy. To give you an opportunity to stretch your new given wings. And may I say, everyone...not just those on probation...have the same opportunity to grow and change, and we must allow for that.”

Draco stared at him, absorbing what these words meant.

“Are you ready?”

Draco nodded, and they stood together, Clarence’s hand on his arm as he raised his wand. “London Bridge” he instructed, and Draco felt himself pulled through space.

*

They appeared in a quiet spot surrounded by tall metal walls that acted similar to the feeling of being in a cave. Draco placed a hand over his stomach to quiet the nausea he experienced every time he apparated, and his ears picked up on the distant sounds of voices and scraping.

Clarence began to walk through a tunnel-like pathway, motioning Draco to follow him. Outside, the morning light met their eyes as they broached the end of the tunnel, and came to a cement staircase on the left. Clarence turned to him. “Here we go.”

Draco adjusted his sweatshirt feeling a bit naked without his robe, and felt for the outline of his wand in his backpack for a bit of reassurance, then nodded. He followed Clarence up the stairs to a wide platform that was bustling with people. As he looked around through a morning fog that still clung in the sunlight, he searched for anyone he may recognize. He saw they were on the far end of the famous muggle London Bridge. He looked upon it curiously, a massive structure that was partly encased in ruins, cement pulled up in sharp broken large chunks everywhere his eyes traveled.

People with large sweep brooms were clearing smaller debris, and in one corner a group was operating a muggle vehicle with a large hook and chain, attempting to remove one of the large pieces. Conversations of cooperation sounded all around him. It seemed a very ambitious task to Draco without magic. Clarence turned to him as though reading his thoughts.

“Obviously we cannot help them with magic. It is a big project indeed, one that will take quite some time to complete.”

Clarence moved towards a tall man who was facing away from them, giving instructions to a group of men. He wore a yellow hard hat and a plaid jacket. “Excuse me, Arthur?”

The man turned and Draco gaped at the face of Arthur Weasley, his insides suddenly shaking. He supposed it wasn’t surprising that he should be here on a muggle project, but Draco wanted desperately to find a place to hide.

Arthur Weasley looked at Clarence and began to answer him, then locked eyes on Draco. His face clouded, and he narrowed his eyes, then turned back to Clarence. Glancing around, he lowered his voice.

“I was expecting you, Mr. Peabody...but did you really bring the offspring of Lucius Malfoy to this project?” He spoke in a controlled but incredulous manner. 

“No,” Clarence responded, and to his credit his countenance did not change, nor did he respond in kind to the challenge in Mr. Weasley's voice. “I brought Draco Malfoy, Arthur, who was exonerated in court, and will be helping on this project as part of his rehabilitation.” He looked Arthur in the eye with a smile, and Draco’s respect for his mentor leapt exponentially. With just a bit of newfound courage, he dared a search of Arthur Weasley’s face. 

Arthur was visibly trying to control his expression as he glared back at Draco, but not quite successfully. “Whatever you say Clarence,” he finally spoke tightly. “But I’m holding you responsible for whatever…”

“Thank you Arthur,” Clarence spoke pleasantly. “Where is the best place for us to work? We will be here each week for the next month.” 

Arthur stared at him. “Fine.” Then pointed to a group several meters down the row of rubble. “I think that is a good place for you to start.”

Clarence and Draco both looked down the row at the group, and while they all had hard hats and muggle clothes, Draco recognized several of them as former Gryffindor students. One of them turned his head to look at them, and even from that distance, Draco recognized the face of Neville Longbottom. The face froze on him a moment, then he quickly returned to his work.

“I don't have to remind you that you need hard hats and gloves. You can find extras in the box by the door.” Arthur Weasley then turned from them, apparently done with the conversation.

Draco’s insides squeezed with anxiety, and he realized it had nothing to do with muggle clothes or the project itself. It was having to face his peers and knowing the reception he would receive. He felt a momentary panic.

Clarence put a hand on his shoulder as they moved to get their hard hats. “Don’t lose sight of your goals, Draco. I know it won’t be easy...the first couple weeks will be the most challenging...but don't lose sight of your goals, and remember...change comes from within. You have already experienced this change. Draw strength from that, and in time they will see it.” 

His words reminded him that Harry had said something very similar. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeking strength from them, then joined Clarence as he dug through the box for the right sized hat and gloves.

*

They approached the group as they were surrounding a huge broken piece of cement road, all kneeling around it positioned as if to push the thing up. A narrow muggle vehicle with a huge claw-like scoop with teeth attached to the front of it stood by, and a large chain came from a hole in the side. The man in the driver’s seat was not familiar to Draco, and he sat with the engine running as if waiting for a signal. 

As they drew close, a few familiar Gryffindors looked up at Draco with narrow-eyed suspicion. Neville ignored him and concentrated his efforts to prepare to hoist the rubble in front of him. A tall, middle aged woman with a long brown ponytail, who was about to join the group, spotted their approach and motioned for the others to pause for a short break. They all relaxed, a few of them staring at them as the woman stepped to meet them, nodding her head. 

She was a tall, strong looking woman, who approached them confidently, but wore a pleasant smile that was speckled with laugh lines that reached the corner of her eyes. She wore a blue corduroy jacket and black trackies, and smart, no nonsense shoe boots.

Clarence reached out a hand. “I'm Clarence Peabody.”

The woman’s large hands almost drowned Clarence’s as she shook it. “Wendy Shanks. I'm leading this bunch. Are you the one from the law office who has come to help?” She spoke in a voice with a slight gravel edge that had seen some years, though with a friendly lilt.

“Yes. And this is Draco Malfoy.” He answered, motioning to Draco. “We’re both here to help in any way we can. Today is kind of an introduction day for us.”

Wendy turned to offer Draco her hand, and as Draco shook it, the woman nodded. “Welcome. We can use all the help we can get.”

Wendy Shanks hadn’t changed expression or flinched at his name, and while of course this muggle had no idea what the Malfoy name meant, it was still a surreal experience for Draco.

“Right now we are trying to unload these bloody breaches in the bridge to prepare for re-paving.” She addressed them both. “We get them moving with the chain and onto the bulldozer, which then transports them to the loading dock. This particular one we are working on is a doozy...you boys don’t mind jumping in for this one, do you?”

Clarence looked at Draco with raised eyebrows. “Well… that’s why we’re here?” Draco nodded, butterflies erupting in his stomach. 

“Everyone gathers for the lift, and at my count of three, all heave together and our spotter boys get the chain under it. Remember to use your arms and legs when lifting, not your back, and keep a wide stance.” She demonstrated the proper ergonomics as she spoke, then motioned them forward. 

They followed Wendy and each found a spot along the large flat square piece of broken cement, kneeling down and locating a space underneath to brace with the palm of their gloves hands. Draco found himself to the left of Neville, who kept his eyes focused on the cement in front of him, preparing for the lift, and Draco did the same. To Neville’s right was a sixth-year Gryffindor; Draco couldn’t remember the name. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw and felt his hard stare come from around Neville. “Ignore him,” he told himself.

The young man holding the chain, who was of slender build and clean shaven but looked about five years older than Draco, stood ready to slip it under the piece of rubble. As they waited for all to get in place for the countdown, Draco heard the sixth-year Gryffindor growl, “Death Eater.” 

Neville tensed up and looked quickly at the offending Gryffindor. Draco’s jaw tightened, and he concentrated on the mantra in his head: “Ignore them. Ignore them.” Easier said than done, but those were the instructions of his mentor...who was simply maintaining his ready position...and that is what he was going to do. A few other familiar faces glanced over with widening eyes; Draco was sure the slur was not meant to be heard by all.

The young man with the chain rubbed a gloved hand across his dark brown bangs and looked down at the speaker, perhaps sensing a tension from his vantage point, and scoffed, “Whot the ‘eck is a death aeatah?”

Draco felt a flush move up his neck, but Neville spoke up quickly. “He’s talking about these darn breaks in the road, Steve. They’ll be the death of all of us before we’re done.”

“Yoor righ’, there,” Steve agreed, but dryly rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, blighters, we aren’t here to chat!” Wendy reminded everyone from her squatting position. “Everyone in position? Steve, Jack, you two ready?” She called loudly.

“Yes ma’am!” Steve answered jovially, and gave a thumbs up. 

A voice on the other side of the piece of rubble answered, “Ready!” and Draco glanced at the man presumably called Jack. Draco hadn’t noticed him before, but obviously he would be receiving the chain as Steve slipped it through. He looked to be around a similar age, spiky blond hair shooting out from under his hard hat, grinning over at his counterpart. “Let’s get this bugger lifted!”

“On my count!” Wendy grunted out, “Three...two...one!”

At the last, they all pushed up together, grunting and heaving, and the rock of cement was slowly lifted as muscle on muscle contracted and legs straightened. Steve quickly shimmied down with the chain and Draco almost gasped as he realized that he was actually slipping under the cement with the chain to meet Jack on the other end, his hat scraping the bottom as he moved. Then he slipped back out and disappeared, the sounds of chain clinking and the bulldozer revving its engine. Draco maintained his hold on the chunk of cement, his legs starting to shake, until he heard Wendy call out, “Clear!”

As one the group stepped back to let the bulldozer team take over. Draco watched as Steve and Jack raised their hands and slapped their palms together quickly, in a gesture that seemed congratulatory in nature. There was certainly a level of trust involved in crawling under a large cement piece of rubble that could really hurt you if your teammates failed to hold up their end. 

The chain continued to pull the rubble upwards and the mouth of the bulldozer moved under it to take it in its teeth. Dust rose, and people covered their mouths with their shirts and jackets. The fog was lifting, and the sun reflected off the steel as it backed up and maneuvered around obstacles to make its way to the “loading dock” whatever that was. He felt Clarence move closer to him. “Good job, Draco.” He told him quietly, and Draco knew he was talking about more than lifting cement.

Wendy walked up to them with a smile. “I usually don’t have new recruits jump in without more orientation, but I couldn’t resist the manpower.” She hit Clarence playfully in the chest with a glove, and he laughed.

“No, that’s okay, glad we could be of help. That was quite the introduction!” Clarence smiled easily at Wendy, and Draco nodded. He felt he should say something too, but didn’t want to sound like a parrot. 

He glanced around and noticed Neville and the sixth year Gryffindor off to the side conversing closely, and Neville didn’t look very happy. Several others, including Steve and Jack, had the large push brooms and were sweeping away what debris they could. Draco looked down the torn up bridge only to see a multitude of these same huge broken pieces as far as his eye could see. It seemed depressingly insurmountable. What would they say if they knew there were wizards standing in front of them who could call on magical repair in a day, but kept silent? 

“And thank YOU Draco for being here,” Wendy was saying to him. 

He turned to her with a small smile and spoke politely. “I'm just glad to help in any way...any way that I can.” 

“I know it looks daunting.” She looked down the bridge. “But we will get the job done...one bloody piece at a time...with good people like you to help.”

Draco swallowed, uncomfortable with the praise. “I...I’m just...happy to be here,” he finished stupidly, and glanced at Clarence, who gave him a quick wink.

*

They were back in Clarence’s office after having finished the half day in a sort of tour, Draco back in his robe sans backpack. Most of their contacts had been muggles, and there had been a relief in anonymity, though Draco knew the following week would mean a full day of rubble clearing. 

“You handled that so well today, Draco. I know it couldn’t have been easy. Next week will be a full day of work, but I don’t expect another public outburst like the one today. The other wizards on the project know how important it is to work as muggles, and references to the world of magic is forbidden.”

“I just kept remembering what you said,” he grinned softly, then asked, “Will we be working with the same group each week?”

“In the interest of consistency and developing working relationships, I think it would be good if we did. It will be important moving on, since there will be breaks and lunch, to remember to treat the muggles and wizards equally...meaning discussions surrounding Hogwarts and past history should be avoided. The muggles shouldn’t suspect that you are anything but another muggle. I know the other wizards have been briefed on this, and I’m sure that our...Gryffindor friend...will be admonished.”

Draco nodded, thinking wryly that Neville Longbottom had probably already begun the process. “Will,” he began tentatively, “Will there be new people...wizards...added to the project? Or…”

Clarence studied him a moment and smiled. “It’s possible.”

Draco digested that, imagining what it would be like to have Harry join them, then rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. “I know we can’t use magic, and why. But it is kind of a shame we can’t use magic to help them...isn't it? I mean the chain boys, Steve and Jack...they risk limbs every time they crawl under the cement. And it will take months.” 

“As a wizard, I can appreciate that thought, Draco. But let’s have this conversation at the end of your probation, and perhaps you will be able to answer that yourself.” 

They solidified plans to meet the following week, and Draco prepared to apparate home. But before leaving, he turned to his mentor once more. 

“Clarence...how can I get my hands on one of those...cell phone things?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so proud of Draco in this chapter. You can probably tell I love him dearly. Things will spice up a bit in the next chapter, and the "chain boys" will be returning characters in this fic, but I needed to establish some ground work and let Draco find his own strength. Also, I'm not sure how London does there clean up, but in this story this is how it works! ;) Please leave comments, they are so inspiring!


	12. Waiting For An Owl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter which sets up the next leg in Draco's journey and introduces a potential complication in he and Harry's plans. Draco sends Harry an owl, has a discussion with Narcissa, and begins his muggle assignment while waiting for Harry's response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We know things can't go TOO smoothly for our heroes...Draco is on probation, and this is new territory for them both after all! But I have faith in them :)

Draco stared down at the book on his desk called “Muggle Studies.” Clarence had given it to him before he left, with instructions to read it and complete a book report on it by next week. The author’s name burned into his soul and a horrible memory flashed across his brain. He shuddered, then set the book aside and reached for parchment and quill. 

“Dear Harry,

Wow, I have finished my first day with Clarence Peabody. We went to London Bridge where they are working on a clean up project that seems insurmountable to me without magic….there is so much rubble to clear. Arthur Weasley was there overseeing it, and he didn’t look very pleased to see me...understandable, but I am determined to gain his respect. 

A Gryffindor sixth year called me a death eater….Neville Longbottom was there, and he covered for me very decently. We aren’t supposed to talk about anything wizard related, so that will be a big help to me going forward. Are you working on a project? Any chance you can...request London Bridge like we talked about? It would be so much better to have you there. 

Do you know what a cell phone is? Clarence has one, the muggles use it to communicate. He is going to see about getting one for me, but said I would have to use a fake name. Not sure exactly how it works, but would be nice if you got one too...we wouldn't need owls. 

I have an assignment in muggle studies...imagine it, me...but I’m finding it quite curious and fascinating and look forward to completing it, though I hope...I hope we can meet again before next Saturday. The Room of Requirement is still fresh in my mind.

Looking forward to your owl,

Draco”

Draco read over his letter again, which filled the whole parchment. Satisfied, he determined to use his mother’s eagle owl, and went downstairs to locate the big brown bird. He found him in his usual spot near the front doors of the Manor. Tying the parchment to his leg, he gave the instructions, “To Harry Potter...and please wait and return with his response.” He then released him out the door into the dusk.

He went into the kitchens where he found their new elf, Kretchin, whipping up dinner. The elf made a bow of obedience, and asked, “Would master Draco like his supper with the Mistress?”

“Yes, Kretchin, that would be fine, thanks.”

The elf stared at him as Narcissa entered the room and sat at the large wooden kitchen table where they had been taking their meals. The large dining room was too big and austere these days for every day use.

“Was that my owl?” She asked as Draco joined her at the table.

“Yes, mother...I just sent Harry an owl about my first meeting.”

“How did it go?” She reached over to cover his hand with hers.

“As well as can be expected. Clarence was very pleased with how it went. I think it is going to go all right, mother. I believe he wants me to succeed.” 

Kretchin came with the food, and placed the steaming meat and vegetables on plates that had been pre set. “Kretchin hopes his masters are pleased.”

“ Thank you Kretchin...you may go.” Narcissa told him, and he bowed and left the room.

She looked to Draco as they began eating. “That is good to hear. Did you...see anyone familiar?”

“Arthur Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and a few Gryffindors.” Draco said casually, scooping his food. 

“And did they…”

“We aren’t allowed to speak of Hogwarts or anything wizard related while on the project. It may take some time, but I’m determined to make a good impression. Next week we start in earnest...I’m hoping...I’m hoping Harry can join our group.” He continued to stare at his food as he ate, feeling his mother’s stare. 

“About that,” she began, setting down her fork and folding her hands under her chin. “I feel like you are getting close with him, and I’m...I’m concerned that people will sense that. Everyone knows you are free because of his testimony. It could make his testimony seem...biased. It could make your efforts seem…biased as well.”

Draco sat back, shocked, and looked at her. “Is that what you think?”

“Of course not.” She answered sternly, then softened. “But it doesn’t matter what I think, what matters is…”

“I’m going to be reading a book on muggle studies, written by the witch Voldemort tortured in this very Manor. And I’m looking forward to reading it. Do you know there is a muggle invention called a cell phone, quite brilliant, and I won’t even need your owl anymore.”

“Draco…” she began as he started eating again. “I don’t mean to upset you. I love you. I’m glad you are taking your rehabilitation to heart. But you know I have a point.”

Draco continued eating silently, pushing away her words, refusing to give them credence. Then he said, without looking up, “It’s not like we’d be huddled in a corner or something, mother. Give us some credit. We would just be two muggles working on the project.”

“Not to the other wizards. Have you spoken to Clarence about this?”

“No...that would be too OBVIOUS...wouldn’t it.” 

“So the plan is to have Harry Potter make the request.”

Draco finished eating silently and his mother did the same. He stood up and placed his dishes in the sink, then turned to her. “Would it be so unusual for the person who spoke for me to be interested in my...rehabilitation? I don’t think so. You will let me know when I have received an owl?” 

She nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m off to start my studies then.” 

He went back upstairs to his room, reluctant to be at odds with his mother. She meant well, but he didn’t need something else to worry about. He felt her concerns were unwarranted, but what if it was decided there was a risk involved? Harry’s mere presence would be a welcome buffer for those determined to hold the past against him even if they could not discuss things openly. Perhaps this was his mother’s point? He couldn’t see anything wrong with it, and even Harry had agreed to it.

He sat at his desk and reached for his book, opening the cover and began to read, with one ear listening for a returning owl.

*

He was a few chapters in, having become engrossed in the subject matter, and the dark of the star-lit night pressed against his window. He was finding the histories and what they had been able to accomplish without magic fascinating. As he came to the end of a chapter, he looked at the time, marked his place, stood and hopped down the stairs.

“Mother!” He called. “Has no owl come yet?”

A pause, and then, “No, not yet.”

He found her in her study. “Are you sure?”

She looked up, and said, “You KNOW I would tell you if you did, Draco. Perhaps Harry is discussing things? If not tonight, I’m sure you will get one tomorrow. Get some rest, now. It’s been a long day for you.”

Disappointed, he nodded, knowing she was telling the truth, and walked to the front window...his mother’s owl still gone. He had given instructions for the owl to wait, thinking it would make it easier and quicker to get a response. He stood for a long while hoping yet for his return, but finally with reluctance, returned to his room. 

“What are you doing, Harry?” He thought to himself as he opened his book again. “Are you trying to arrange something? Have you spoken to Arthur Weasley or whoever is in charge on your end?”

What if it turned out they would not be able to work on the same project after all? Upon reading the same sentence fifteen times, his mind on the question at hand, he set his book aside. Regardless of what happened, Draco decided he could and would prove himself with or without Harry’s help. He rested his chin in his hands and recalled their time in the room of requirement, longing rising up in him and the desire to see him again wrestling out all other thoughts. Would they be able to just “work together as muggles” without drawing suspicion? 

He sighed and put away his book, deciding the sooner he went to bed the sooner morning would come and with it the returning owl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the bit of a cliffhanger. I promise it won't be too long before the next chapter. Thank you for hanging in there with me! As always, comments appreciated!


	13. Turning The Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting Harry's owl, Draco shares with his mother and finds a new strength in their combined support. He makes some discoveries in his muggle studies as he prepares for week two on the London Bridge project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all...another short transition chapter. I hope you are still with me. :)
> 
> I'm already working on chapter 14, and look forward to posting that one as well.

When Draco woke the next day, the light in his window told him it was past mid morning. How had he slept so late? Throwing back the covers, he stopped in the bathroom, grabbed his robe, and trotted downstairs. He went straight to the front door and found the eagle owl with his head tucked, sleeping, and still attached to its leg was a parchment. 

His stomach dropped in anticipation, and he wasted no time carefully removing the parchment, the owl barely moving. 

“He came in at sunrise.”

He turned to see his mother standing in the entrance of the foyer, watching him carefully.

“You should have woken me.”

“You needed your sleep. I saved breakfast…”

Draco looked at her incredulously. “Please, mother…” And walked past her and back up the stairs to the privacy of his room.

He sat on the bed and broke the seal, an electric buzz moving through him, and began to read.

“Dear Draco,

First off, I am so sorry for the delay in responding. I didn’t realize your owl would be waiting, and it broke my heart a little when I found him this morning still on our doorstep.

Ron and Hermione returned from the burrow yesterday, and we spent some time catching up...I didn’t tell them about...us...obviously, and I’m sure you agree that discretion is needed. Though we did talk about you and I strongly advocated for your rehab. I do believe they are softening towards you. :) 

Would you believe we are all going to be working on London Bridge...only on the opposite end from you. I exchanged owls with Arthur Weasley, and it was only natural to request that we work on the site with him. Only...he was adamant that we were needed on the other end, and I can only conclude that he wants to keep us separated. Come next Saturday, I am going to try and come up with a reason for visiting him. 

I want to say though, Draco, that it sounds like you are holding your own, and am proud of the progress you have made so far. Don’t let anyone discourage you. 

I would like nothing more than to see you again, and our first time together in the room of requirement is something I will cherish forever, and has been in my thoughts constantly. I look forward to many more. I just...feel like for now we should take a step back, during your initial efforts to solidify your standing in the eyes of those watching you. I am missing you, but finding your strength to stand on your own is something I think is so important now. I am confident you will come to understand this, and know I have utmost confidence in you.

I trust that I will see you sometime on Saturday. 

Your always, Harry”

*

Draco brought the parchment with him as he made his way to the kitchen. There was a place set for him at the table, and his mother was still there sipping tea...he knew she was waiting for him. She glanced at the parchment, then up to his face.

“What did Harry Potter have to say?”

Draco hesitated, still not sure how much he wanted to share with her, then slowly reached forward handing her the letter.

She stood and took it in her hand, then sat back down to read. He felt his face flush pink as she scanned through the letter not once, not twice, but three times, and tears brushed the corners of her eyes. She finally looked up at him, blinking, and said, “I believe he truly cares for you, Draco.”

Such words coming from his mother were really something. It ALMOST made his disappointment worth it. He took the parchment back from her and fingered it a moment, meeting her eyes. “So you are not…”. He paused, not sure how to finish the sentence.

She stared back intently. “What goes on between you and Harry...should stay between you and Harry. But I think he understands what I do, and as a mother who loves you and wants you to succeed on your own merit, that puts him in the highest esteem in my eyes.”

He was moved by his mother’s words, and a seed of hope filled his heart. She hadn’t reacted in shock or disgust at the implications in the letter...there had been no surprise at all, only an acknowledgement of what she deemed to be most important. With the two people he cared about the most on the same side rooting for him, how could he go wrong? He smiled weakly at her in thankfulness.

“Now, are you going to have some breakfast?” 

*

Draco decided the best thing to do that week was to enmesh himself in the muggle study assignment he had been given, making notes on a parchment, and leaving questions he couldn’t find answers for. The history of how their civilizations progressed, the cooperation needed, was truly remarkable, but something else surprised him. In his previous life, it had always been “wizard VS muggle” but he was mildly shocked to find many factions of muggles were at odds and fought each other, and prejudice came in many forms. 

He wasn’t going to pretend that his nights weren’t lonely, and he wondered how Harry was holding up. He had sent him an answering owl saying he understood, and that he had shared his owl with his mother, along with apologies if he had overstepped in sharing with her. He deserved to know that. He gave reassurances and that she was impressed with him and had her full discretion. He had received an answering owl quickly, laced with mild shock, that he was missed, and would hopefully see him Saturday.

He counted down the days with each chapter, and one night skipped to the glossary on muggle slang. He found it most interesting, and it would probably have the most practical benefit to him as he worked together on the clean up site.

He paused on the term “Fag.” The description read that it was an old northern English slang that referred to a hand-rolled cigarette. He already had read what a cigarette was, but then in parentheses next to the description it went on to say, “this word in the Americas also is a derogatory slang term for sexual relations between two men. See also homosexual.” 

Derogatory. A pang shot through him. In his own family’s circles it was certainly frowned upon, but that was mostly due to the importance of marriage and carrying on the family name. While it wasn’t unheard of in the wizard world, in general, it wasn’t openly acknowledged much either.

He slipped forward to the Hs:

“Homosexual: Sometimes disparaging or offensive, a person who is sexually or romantically attracted to the same sex. A gay person, and especially a gay male person.”

Well...that wasn’t discouraging at all. He flipped to the index to search anything in the text about it, and found a chapter that included a history on the struggle of the rights of gay culture. The book only went up to a certain point in time, and he wondered how things stood now. Perhaps Clarence could refer him to a more current history book. On second thought, it might be better to find a bookstore. 

The next day, Friday, he visited a private local bookstore known for its extensive section on muggles. He found the shelf he was looking for, and browsed through the titles. He finally spotted a small hardcover book with the title “A Study of Modern Gay Culture.” He slipped it off the shelf and opened the book to the copyright, glancing around, a bit self conscious, but there weren’t many patrons in the store. 

He made his way to the check out, and passed a few galleons along with the book across the counter. The man behind it glanced at the book and rang up the purchase before looking up at Draco, who stared back almost definitely. The man merely nodded good day and turned back to his newspaper.

He spent his evening ensconced in the book and read about the riots surrounding the UK section 28, how the actor Ian McClelland came out in support of overturning it...and the fact it WAS overturned pleased Draco. 

After completing his book report essay...which included a note about the book he had purchased...he read long into the night about stories of brave men and women who had come out, about the USA riots and the struggle to pass laws in favor of gay marriage. It wasn’t really pertinent to his upcoming work on London Bridge, but he could personally identify with the subject and it gave him an insight into the muggle world he had up to recently mostly ignored.

He couldn’t know that his newfound knowledge would come in handy the next day.


	14. The Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's second Saturday on the restoration project at London Bridge, where he makes a shocking discovery and receives a gift from Clarence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Thank you for coming back. This chapter gets a bit dicey...while there is no direct violence or anything like that, it could be triggering for those who have been victims of homophobia hate. Still, it's an important day for Draco, as he faces a bit of a dilemma and makes a decision.

Clarence and Draco approached their group the next morning, and they all acknowledged them with waves and nods, including Neville. There was not one look of reproach among the Gryffindors, and Draco noted that the sixth year who had called him death eater was not among them.

They were warmly greeted by Wendy, who shook their hands again. “So you decided to come back for more!” 

They had already picked up the hats and gloves and checked in with Arthur Weasley, who had approached with a professional nod at both of them and given instructions on where to find the group. That was progress, Draco had thought.

Draco was surprised to find that their group had progressed much further along the bridge than he anticipated. A large section of the bridge was flat and clear of debris, and he was impressed.

“Absolutely, Wendy,” Clarence was saying, looking around. . “You’ve come a long way.”

“We have a good crew.” She shifted her gaze behind them, and called out, “And now that we have our spotters, we can get right on it then!” 

Draco turned to see Steve and Jack, the chain boys as he had come to think of them, walking briskly towards them down the bridge. Steve was a few inches shorter and almost lithe in his movements...Draco could understand why he was chosen for the job he did. He still held his hard hat in one hand, running the other through the brown fringe that fell across his brow and down behind his ears, then shook his head before positioning the hat on his head and securing the strap. Jack raised a hand and called back pleasantly, “Running a little late today Wendy, sorry!” Steve elbowed him, and they both laughed.

The man running the bulldozer, which was ready and positioned close by, turned the engine on and impatiently revved it up a moment. He was older than most of them but younger than Wendy, and had a look that was both bored and irritated at the same time.

Wendy glanced at him. “Don’t waste gas, Carl.”

Carl looked at her nonchalantly and smiled around something he was chewing. “Sorry.” 

Draco didn’t think he looked particularly sorry, and unless it was his imagination, there seemed to be just a wee bit of lingering tension between him and Wendy.

Then Wendy was smiling again as Jack and Steve came up and greeted the group before donning their gloves and approaching the bulldozer to pull the chain from its compartment.

“Mou’nin’, Carl” Steve said in greeting as he and Jack pulled the chain out. Carl gave the same smile he had given Wendy, and lifted one set of fingers from the steering wheel in an answering response. Jack gave a tug on the chain and it held in place.

“All right, gang!” Wendy called to everyone, clapping her hands together.. “Time to get rolling!”

Clarence and Draco joined the rest as they all positioned themselves around the current piece of cement they were working on. He made a point to find a spot next to Neville again. Turning to him in what he hoped appeared to be natural politeness, he held out his hand.

“Draco,” he said in a form of greeting, “Draco Malfoy.”

Neville looked at him, and the faintest flicker of humor graced his eyes. “Neville,” he answered, shaking his hand. “Neville Longbottom.”

Draco nodded, feeling very satisfied with himself, and they both turned to focus on the task at hand.

Everything went pretty much like it had the previous week, with Wendy counting down, everyone joining muscle at ‘one’ to lift, and the chain boys sliding under to place the chain. They were quick and did their job well, sliding back out so fast it hardly seemed they had been there, and then the bulldozer took over. 

Draco saw that as it drew near, the chain was pulled back into its compartment, maintaining tension to continue lifting the cement block until the large metal claw on the front of the vehicle was positioned just right, and the block was pulled back into it. Then Carl was off to find the loading dock, and the way was much clearer for him than last week. 

As the dust settled, Wendy moved toward a small stack of push brooms, picked one up, and said to them all. “Grab a broom. Those who don’t have one, there are a lot of smaller cement chunks that can be moved manually. Gather them in one spot, and the dozer can scoop them.” 

The brooms went fast, and Clarence and Draco started picking up large pieces of rubble along with Neville and a couple other people he didn’t know, and soon they had a large pile started. Draco spotted a rather large piece, and said to Clarence, “We could both tackle that one?” Clarence nodded with a thumbs up, and between the two of them they got the rather large awkwardly-shaped chunk to the pile. Neville and another followed their lead, and by the time Carl returned with the dozer, the pile was big enough so that he needed to make two more trips to the loading dock.

Wendy led them to the next large block of cement and they prepared to do the same thing all over again. Lifting the block and getting the chain in place didn’t take much time in itself, but with the time spent in preparations and the clean up afterwards, when they were done it was already mid morning. 

“Anyone need to use the loo?” Wendy asked. “We’ll take a short break. Get some water, go to the loo, and meet back here.”

Draco fell in line beside Clarence, and as they came to the end of the bridge he looked around wondering if and when Harry would make his appearance. He supposed it was a bit early for it. They approached a row of tall green structures that looked like cabinets that had “satellite” printed across the top. 

“The loo,” Clarence commented. 

“I can see now how they made so much progress.” Draco said as Clarence opened the door to one stall.

“Indeed.” 

As he waited, he glanced around at others in line as they chatted amongst themselves, doors opening and the lines moving forward. There was a spirit of camaraderie, even with something as banal as using the loo. It would be nice, he thought...it would be nice to get to know some of them, even if he couldn’t talk about anything magical.

“It is going quite well, don’t you think?” Clarence was saying to him as they walked back.

“Yes. I noticed the one who called me a death eater is not here today...I hope they didn’t get into too much trouble. I mean...they weren’t wrong.”

Clarence stopped. “Draco...you aren’t a death eater any more.” He spoke decisively, and they continued walking. Draco supposed it would take some time for him to expect he deserved to be looked at as anything else. 

The second part of the morning passed the same as the first, and they got two more large blocks of cement removed, along with the smaller debris in between. Steve and Jack’s teamwork continued to impress him, and they seemed like decent blokes in general. Steve spoke in an accent that was unfamiliar to Draco, and at times could hardly understand what he was saying. 

“Good work, everyone!” Wendy called. “Time to break for lunch. You have an hour.” She pointed in the distance to a large tent set up back behind the building where they checked in. 

She approached Draco and Clarence. “You will find lunch set up in buffet style, with long tables to sit at. Good work, by the way. We are lucky to have you.”

She fell in line with them as they made their way to the tent and she and Clarence chatted while Draco let the praise settle in him. He wasn’t used to it, especially coming from a muggle. He was simply doing the work everyone else was doing, and it was the least he could do.

They entered the light-green tent that was teaming with people and the delicious odor of warm ham, baked beans, and bread. Draco hadn’t expected such a lunch. 

“Saturdays are special,” Wendy explained as if reading his thoughts. “Lucky you!” 

There were two rows of long tables, and Draco was reminded of the great hall at Hogwarts. The food was being served on a long table at the front, and two lines were being formed, one on each side. As they made their way in line, Clarence and Draco on opposite sides, Draco found himself behind Steve, Jack directly opposite him.

“Oi, Jack, they ‘ave ‘am todaee an’ baeens.”

“Your favorites,” Jack answered, amused.

Something bubbled up in Draco, and as he grabbed a plate, he spoke to Steve. “The ham looks good, yes?” 

Steve turned to look at him, and Draco was slightly non pulsed by his eyes, which were the color of the bluest ocean.

“Hey, lad, yes it doooz. ‘Specially when yer ‘ungry as I am.” 

Jack shook his head across the table as Steve forked a pile of the ham onto his plate. 

Draco looked between them. “Jack and Steve, right? I just want to say I appreciate your work.”

“Alwite…Fhank you!” He grinned and looked at Jack. “See, mate, we’re appweciated!” He moved on to the beans, and Draco helped himself to the ham. Across from him, Clarence gave him a subtle wink. 

Draco was suddenly made aware that Carl was just behind him in line. As the chain boys picked up paper cups full of lemonade and left to find seats, he heard Carl mumble a word beneath his breath. He mumbled it, but Draco heard him...and he knew what the word meant. A cold chill moved through him, and he stopped stone still with the shock of it. Clarence had already gotten his drink and moved on. 

Draco couldn’t stop himself from turning his face to Carl, who gave him an icy stare. “You heard me,” he said, then leaned closer. “Look, you are new here, so let me give you some advice. Steer clear of them two. They’re a little light in the loafers if you know what I mean.” 

Draco wasn’t familiar with that phrase, but he was pretty sure he knew what it meant. He felt a slight flush creep up his neck and stared hard back at him. People started going around them in line.

“Thanks for the advice,” Draco responded coldly. “But they seem pretty nice to me.” Then he turned quickly, grabbed a lemonade, and searched the tables for Steve and Jack. His insides were trembling. He was genuinely interested in speaking to them further, but now he also had a point to make. Nobody was going to tell him who to make friends with...then he smiled to himself as a memory came to him.

As he made his way to a spot at the table across from Steve and Jack, he glanced around for Arthur Weasley, wondering if Harry had been able to get away for his visit. Arthur was at a table, but he didn’t see Harry anywhere. 

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked the chain boys.

“Not at all!” Jack answered, gesturing to the bench. He had removed his hat, and his hair was spikey blond, now somewhat flattened down around his ears. 

Steve looked at him from underneath his brown fringe. “Wha’s yer naeem then, mate?” He spoke quickly, and for a second Draco wasn’t sure what he had asked him. Jack chucked.

“He asked for your name.” He gestured his thumb towards Steve, then said, “He’s from up near Doncaster. I always have to translate for him,” he teased.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “Jus cuz me mum taught me manners, an’ you ain’ got noon.” He clipped sassily. Jack was unbothered, and merely grinned lazily. 

Draco wasn’t sure where Doncaster was, but looked between them, and guessed this sort of banter was normal for them. “My name is Draco. I’m here with Clarence Peabody. We’ll be working here for the next few weeks.”

“Ah,” Jack nodded, “It’s good to meet you, Draco.” 

“Hm,” Steve nodded in agreement, his mouth full of beans.

“Now who’s got the manners?” Jack snarked back before making a sandwich from the ham and bread and taking a bite.

Steve swallowed his beans, and without looking at Jack responded, “Piss off!”

Draco certainly found them friendly, and was entertained throughout lunch. Underneath all the banter, he sensed a closeness between them, and Carl’s words came back to him. He wondered if the tension that morning had anything to do with it. He finally finished his plate, and began to stand.

“Thanks for sharing lunch with me,” he nodded to them. 

“Anytoim,” Steve answered, giving a nod back.

“Later,” Jack added. 

As Draco moved away, he sensed someone staring at him, and looked over to see Carl glaring his way as he made his way out of the tent. Ignoring him, he walked to the large trash can, tossed his plate and cup, and looked around for Clarence. His stomach did a somersault. Clarence, Arthur Weasley, Neville, and….Harry were standing by the door. Harry spotted him immediately, and his green eyes flickered at him as the corners of his pink mouth rose in a smile.

Merlin. Draco paused to control his breathing, but could do nothing about the heat that rose up his neck. He had last seen him in the Room Of Requirement, and tried to push away the images that flashed in his brain. He smiled back, then cleared his throat as he walked over, forcing a neutral expression on his face. His stomach continued its happy little flip flops as he joined them, though he tried his best not to show it. Arthur nodded to him. “Draco,” he said in greeting.

“Mr.. Weasley,” he nodded back, exchanged nods with Neville, then looked at Harry. “...Harry.” 

They made eye contact a moment before Harry answered, “Hello, Draco,” then slowly exhaled as if he had been holding his breath.” 

Clarence patted his shoulder in greeting. “Mr. Weasley was just telling us that it shouldn’t be too long before the clean up work on the bridge is complete, what with a group working on the other end.”

“Right.” Arthur agreed. “I have to admit, the work is going quicker than we anticipated.”

“We have a good group working on the other end,” Harry said, keeping his eyes on Arthur. “I imagine you do too.”

“Indeed,” he answered, glancing at Clarence and Draco.

Draco was aware they were standing in the front of the tent, and sensed many eyes on them. Arthur glanced around the tent, then moved towards the door, and Clarence joined him. Neville and Harry fell back to walk along with Draco, who tried willing his heart rate to slow down.

“How’s it going?” Harry asked quietly, keeping his eyes ahead.

“Very well, I think. Today has much better than last week.”

He looked sideways at him, and Harry did the same. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yes,” Draco answered. “It is.” And that was the understatement of the century. Draco wanted nothing more than to apparate them both away.

They walked through the wide flaps that served as doors, and Arthur turned back to Harry. “Well...thank you for your...report, Harry.” His tone sounded a bit dry to Draco’s ears, and it was obviously a dismissal.

“No problem, Mr. Weasley. I’ll keep you posted.” He turned to Clarence. “It’s very good to meet you, Mr.. Peabody. I’ve...heard good things about you.”

“And I you! I trust we will meet again.”

Then Harry nodded at all of them, his gaze lingering on Draco for a moment before flapping his arms in a sort of helpless gesture. “Well...have a good rest of your day, then!” He began walking towards the stairs that would lead him to the apparition point, but glanced over his shoulder to them once more before disappearing down them. 

Neville left to join the group, and Arthur nodded to Clarence and Draco, then looked away with a droll smirk. “Gentlemen...have a good rest of your day,” he said, before walking back towards the building.

*

They were starting on what would be the last big job of the day after working all afternoon together as a team, though Carl had an angry sneer through most of it. Draco probably wouldn’t have really noticed if it hadn’t been for what happened during lunch break. While it was disturbing, it did help keep his mind from continuingly being focused on the memory of Harry smiling at him in the lunchroom. 

The block of cement was one of the largest they had ever moved, over twice the length of Jack, and a nervous sort of energy twirled in the bottom of Draco’s stomach. There was a deep divot in the crumbing earth below. It would take a bit more effort for the chain boys to pull out. They were using two chains that were both attached to the dozer, and Jack and Steve would meet in the middle underneath to clip them together so the chain could tighten as soon as possible. 

They all gathered around the piece of cement as Jack checked the lock on the chain. Wendy was on the left end, Draco next to her. “We got this!” He heard Jack say above him, with Steve’s responding, “Oi oi!” They all braced themselves as Wendy counted down, then gave the lift, pushing up with all their strength. Steve came down the left side, and Jack the right. 

Draco tried to remember to use his legs, and they started quivering with the effort. He heard the click as the chain was connected, and immediately the pressure was relieved as it tightened against the stone. As one, everybody relaxed their hold in relief.

There was a horrible noise as the chain suddenly loosened and the block of cement fell back. Three things happened all at once: The panicked shouts of all the workers as they unsuccessfully tried to regain their hold on the stone, Steve’s horrible scream of pain, and Wendy’s angry cry, “Carl, GOD DAMMIT get the bloody chain tightened! Everybody lift!” 

Jack had made it out, but Steve still had an arm under the block. Sickened by his screams of pain, Draco heard Wendy tell Clarence to call the “medics” as he joined the others to lift, but then felt her tap in his shoulder. “Draco, help me get him out.”

He immediately rushed to Steve’s feet as Wendy carefully reached around his shoulders, carefully splinting his crushed arm against his chest, and they slowly pulled him out. Jack came bouncing towards them and burst into tears when he saw them. “Steve!” He cried, “Oh, fuck, Steve!”

Wendy turned to him and clipped tersely, “Go help with the lift.” 

“But..”

“I said, go help with the lift...now!”

He paused...then, tears streaming, obeyed. 

Draco and Wendy moved Steve a bit more out of the way, her back turned against the rest of the crowd. Steve’s face crumpled in pain, tears falling, teeth clenched as if trying not to cry out, but he couldn’t stop his screams and it was an absolutely wretched sound. His arm was mangled in a horrible position, and blood covered it, still oozing from open wounds. 

Draco felt Wendy’s eyes on him, and he looked up at her. “Hold him steady,” she said, then rested her hands over Steve’s crushed arm and closed her eyes. She began moving her lips silently. As Draco watched her curiously, he began to feel a vibrating hum emanate from her...a rather familiar hum. Steve’s cries quieted, though his chest still rose and fell with gasped breathing, his eyes still closed. Wendy continued, and Draco felt his eyes widen in shock as the bleeding stopped and Steve’s breathing evened out. Suddenly he understood why she had sent Jack away. 

In the distance he heard a siren, which grew louder quickly as it approached, and the sounds of the dozer pulling up the block with the chain, and voices as people started gathering around them. “Stay back!” Wendy called. “Keep room for the medics!” She ran a hand over Steve’s forehead, and leaned down. “Gonna be ok Steve. We gotcha.” Steve nodded, his eyes still closed, his brow pinched together. 

Then the medics were there with a large square vehicle that had a red flashing square light on top. Two men in blue jumpers came out the back with something that looked like a long narrow bed, and they carefully lifted him onto it as Wendy briefly described what had happened. Jack followed them, saying, “I’m going with.” They let him hop in the back, and then they were gone. 

Wendy turned quickly back to the dozer, but Carl was already maneuvering it with the cement block in hand, which dangerously stuck out over the edge. Without a nod or a word, he carefully followed the medics down the bridge. Wendy stared after him, her eyes intense, her fists clenched. 

Neville and a few others started sweeping and gathering rubble, but Draco stood by Wendy watching the dozer grow smaller and smaller. He didn’t know what to say, but thought maybe she would want to say something to him. She had used magic. What kind of witch was she? Where was she from? Did she ask him to help because he happened to be near? Or because she knew who he was, and would know he would understand not to ask questions? Did Clarence know she was a witch? 

“His screams will haunt me for a long fucking time,” she said finally, anger punctuating her words. “He’s a damn good kid.”

“It was awful,” Draco agreed. “You, um...handled everything so well.” 

She turned to him and watched his eyes as Clarence came up to stand with them. “Thank you for your help, Draco. Sorry you had to experience something like that so soon.” Then she addressed both of them. “We haven’t had an accident like that in...I can’t remember that ever happening.”

“That sounded horrible. I feel so bad for him,” Clarence said, face pained. “He’s going to be laid up for a while, I imagine. What a terrible accident.”

Draco watched her jaw clench in anger at the words, but only said, “Carl’s got some explaining to do. Don’t know where we’re going to find someone to replace Steve. That’s for sure.” 

“I’m so sorry that happened, Wendy. Hope you don’t mind, Draco and I will be leaving for the day, if that’s okay. Not because of what happened, but we have some follow up things to discuss.”

“No, that’s all right. We are done today.” Her voice was muted.. “Thanks again to both of you for all your help.” 

And with that, she shook their hands, and walked back to the rest to organize the final clean up. It was like the magic hadn’t happened at all, but Draco knew what he knew. “I understand that was a bit traumatizing,” he heard her say to the group, her commanding, controlled voice back again. “And THAT is why you never...EVER...let go of the block until I give the all clear, is that understood?”

They walked down the bridge, and down the stairs to the apparation point in quiet, each with their own thoughts. Draco struggled with whether or not to talk to him about the magic. He had been pretty sure magic wasn’t allowed on the site, but he understood why she had used it. She couldn’t bear to hear Steve suffer, and he didn’t blame her. Surely she wouldn’t get into trouble for that if word got out, but you never knew. On the other hand, if he kept something like this from his probation officer, would it go bad for him if they found out? 

He thought of a question he COULD ask Clarence, but would wait until they were safe in his office. 

*

When they arrived, Draco pulled his rucksack off and dug inside for his muggle book report before they started talking so he wouldn’t forget. As Clarence sat down removing his own rucksack, Draco handed it to him. “It was a fascinating read,” he told him, sitting in the chair in front of his desk. 

Clarence settled in his own chair and nodded, setting it aside. “Excellent. I’ll look it over and we can talk about it next week.” Then he ran a hand through his hair. “That was tough to witness today. Are you holding up alright?” 

The image of Wendy as she gave orders and attended to Steve with such care was still present with him.

“I’m doing ok. I just hope Steve will be alright. I spoke to him and Jack at lunch today, and...they seemed like good friends as well as workers.”

“I saw that. Very good of you to take the initiative.”

“It made what happened...harder to experience.”

Clarence leaned forward and smiled a bit. “Yes. Opening up does make us more vulnerable.”

Draco recalled the banter and closeness between Steve and Jack at lunch, and then the panicked tears of Jack when Steve had been hurt. And he recalled his short conversation with Carl, and his sour countenance the rest of the day. He looked up at Clarence.

“I don’t think it was an accident,” he blurted suddenly.

Clarence sat back in his chair, mildly startled. “What?” 

“At lunch, after I spoke to Steve and Jack in the line, Carl called them a nasty slur and warned me to stay away from them. I basically said no, and sat and ate with them. Carl glared at me and was snarley the rest of the day, and then…”

“Slur? What slur, Draco?”

“The only reason I know about it is I read it in the glossary of muggle slang in the book you gave me.”

Clarence leaned on the desk, a hand partially covering his mouth, and stared back, waiting.

“He called them fags.” 

The air was thick with silence for a moment, then Clarence rubbed both hands over his face and blew out air. “Christ.”

“There has to be a way to control the chain from inside the vehicle. I bet it wouldn’t have been hard for him to unlock it,” Draco continued, “And make it seem like an accident.”

“Did you speak to Wendy about this?”

“No, I wasn’t sure I should, but I think she suspects the same thing. She was very angry at him.”

“And Carl really warned you to stay away from them?” He asked in disbelief. 

“You’re new here, so let me give you some advice,” Draco quoted. “Steer clear from those two.” 

“Wow,” Clarence leaned back again shaking his head, anger registering on his normally controlled face. “That’s bad, Draco. That is not acceptable at all. The slur, or the threat. I...there is definitely circumstantial evidence to at least investigate further...but proving that it wasn’t an accident is another matter entirely. Did anyone else hear Carl say those things?”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Clarence made a sucking noise in the back of his teeth. “I believe you, Draco. But another witness would be helpful.” He then leaned forward over his desk. “Another important point is, if this was not an accident, this was a crime committed against Steve...Steve would have to be the one to press charges. It would be up to him to give us the green light to move forward.” 

“Oh…”. Draco nodded, but it seemed to him that Carl wasn’t the sort of person who should be trusted with the dozer in any case.

“If Steve presses charges, your conversation with Carl could be helpful, but it would...it could put Steve in a vulnerable position. We don’t know if Carl’s insinuations are true...either way, it could open a can of worms. On the other hand, Steve could actually press charges against the operation itself. It’s not an employment situation, but it still could be filed under workman’s comp.”

Draco wasn’t sure what that meant.

“In other words, Steve could sue the restoration project. Not that he would...but it would be another option for him.”

“Oh.” Draco said again, and let the rather disturbing words simmer before asking, “Will you talk to Wendy about it?”

“Yes, I will delicately approach her with your concerns. That sort of hate speech should not be tolerated. Again, Steve’s thoughts on the matter have to be considered.”

Draco nodded, a sort of pain swirling in his chest. His thoughts turned to Wendy’s magic. “Clarence,” he began, then hesitated. “Um...it’s unfortunate that magic can’t be done to restore Steve more quickly. I mean, I know we can’t, but it’s a shame.”

“It’s a dilemma,” he agreed with a tired look. “But necessary to maintain the integrity of the project.”

“Clarence,” he began again, “Remind me...who knows that I am a wizard?”

“Only other wizards and witches.”

Draco nodded thoughtfully. So that meant Wendy indeed knew who he was...had placed trust in him.

“But while you are on probation, you won't always know who is magical or muggle. I will definitely talk to Wendy. And we should probably bring Arthur Weasley in the loop. Any other thoughts on this before I move on?”

Draco paused only for a moment before answering, watching his hands as he rubbed them together. “No, that’s pretty much it.” He just couldn’t bring himself to tell Clarence about his strong belief Wendy had used magic. After all, it was just his feeling and he hadn’t given her a chance to confirm or deny it. Perhaps he had made his decision to look the other way immediately...otherwise he would have asked her directly. 

“Despite the unpleasantness of today, I do want to tell you that you made a good impression last week. You were courteous and in control when someone sniped at you, and your attitude was one of willingness to put shoulder to shoulder. I have no doubt reports from today will be good as well.” 

Draco felt his cheeks go slightly pink and nodded his head, squirming slightly. Clarence folded his hands and watched him for a moment, an eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something. Draco looked back at him, then in understanding, sat up straight and said, “Thank you, Clarence. I appreciate that.”

Clarence smiled. “You are welcome!” Then he held up a finger and turned to open a drawer. Reaching in, he hesitated a moment, grinning up at him, then pulled out a small rectangular black box and set it on his desk. Then he pushed it forward to the edge.

Draco watched with widening eyes as he recognized the object; it looked just like the “cell phone” Clarence showed him last week.

“This is yours,” he stated with some pride. “As promised.”

“Mine?” Draco reached for it and held it in his hand. It felt light and smooth with rounded edges and a small narrow knob the length of his pinkie rose from the end of it. 

“Yes. Pull your chair around, and I’ll show you how it works.”

Suddenly energized, Draco drug his chair next to Clarence behind the desk and set his phone in front of him.

“Now, since you are on probation, your use of this will be limited, but it should include anyone working on restoration projects. This particular phone is what we call a retail phone, one where you add minutes at the top of each month. The name we have used for you associated with the account is Tom Daily....a nice, common muggle name. You don’t have to use that name when sending texts, but it keeps your account secure on the books.”

Draco felt just a bit lost. “Texts?”

“Here, I’ll show you,” and pulled his own phone out.

They spent the next few minutes or so going over the basic functions, starting with flipping the top to find the screen and keypad. “This is how you will answer it when someone calls.” 

“Calls?” Draco asked, and he was feeling quite...uneducated. 

“Yes. You not only can send printed messages, but you can use this to talk to people.”

When Draco just stared at him with an open mouth, Clarence pointed to the door. “Go stand over there.” Draco obeyed. “Now when you hear a ringing sound, lift the top and hold it to your ear.”

Clarence flipped his phone open and punched some buttons, and a static chiming bell came from Draco’s phone. He flipped it open, held it to his ear, and Clarence’s voice crackled. “Hi! This is a Clarence. What do you think?” Draco gaped at him in disbelief, and Clarence laughed in glee at his expression. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Clarence showed him all the ins and outs of the phone, including how to add a contact, starting with his own name and number. 

“And this works...no matter how far away you are? I can just...contact you whenever?”

Clarence nodded. “Yes. You may contact me whenever.” 

“Wow...I mean, of course I won’t...I just meant.”

“It’s okay, Draco, I know what you meant. I just get a kick out of sharing new things with people. Now, like I said, you are limited, but...you should be able to exchange numbers with other people on the project who have cell phones...muggle and wizard alike.”

Draco ran a hand over his device, thinking it was like touching gold. If Harry had one, they could...actually talk to one another. “Can any wizard get one of these?”

Clarence blinked at him and smiled. “As long as they have a muggle connection.”

“Right...Clarence...thank you for this. I mean...how do I repay you for…”

“Draco, I want you to be able to contact me anytime you feel like you need me for anything. I love using owls...I have a lovely one...but sometimes time is of the essence, and you need quick communication. Also...it is nice to hear someone’s voice. Words on paper are very two dimensional. So much more can be communicated through the voice.”

Draco wanted to ask him about getting a phone for Harry. Very badly. 

“Who else has a phone? Does Arthur Weasley have one?”

“He most certainly does. Did you want his contact number?” There was a sparkle in Clarence’s eye he wasn’t sure he understood.

“I...well, I suppose it would be…”. Arthur Weasley wasn’t someone he was necessarily planning on contacting.

Clarence wrote a number down and passed him the paper. “You can enter the number as practice. You never know when you may need it”

It occurred to Draco that Clarence used his phone a lot to communicate. He took the piece of paper, then said, “I suppose Arthur would be able to get someone a cell phone if they wanted one.”

“I’m sure he could,” Clarence nodded, smiling.

Draco cleared his throat. “Well...thanks again for this, Clarence. This is truly amazing.”

“I’m happy you appreciate it. Now, I’m sure you want to get home to supper. Your assignment for this week...I’d like you to pick any book on muggle history that interests you and write a report on it.”

“I actually already have one,” he answered. “I’ve read through most of it last night; does that count?”

Clarence tilted his head and beamed. “Absolutely. Also, to let you know, I’d like to add something fun to the mix. Today’s activities have put a bit of a damper on things...but I was planning on a field trip of sorts to a muggle restaurant/club. I still think that would be a good way to prevent the staleness that comes from all work and no play. There would be others from the project there as well. What do you think?”

“I…” Draco felt shock, and nerves, and curiosity, and...it sure wasn’t what he had expected. 

“Whatever you are comfortable with. There is no rule that says reformation has to be dull and dreary. In fact, I think the opposite is true. As long as I am with you, it is allowed. You can think about it and...we can talk more later.” Then he stood and offered his hand.

Draco shook it, thanked him again, and prepared to apparate home. “You will let me know how Steve is doing?”

“I will.”


	15. Steve And Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Jack deserve their own moment, and this little chapter expounds on the nature of their relationship and sets up the rest of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give Steve and Jack a POV moment. Hope you like! As always, comments are welcome!

Chapter 15

Steve woke up surrounded by white sheets, white walls, and the smell of antiseptic and gauze bandages. Light from the window told him it was late in the day, whatever day it was. How long had he been here? 

There was mild pain in his arm, which was covered by a splint of heavy bandages from wrist to elbow, supported on a pile of pillows. Looking around, he saw a pole with a bag of fluid, which flowed through tubing attached to his free arm by an IV. His lips were dry as sandpaper, and his brain felt a bit loopy.

On his bedside table was a cup full of ice chips. He reached for it, bringing it to his mouth to shake a few of them in, several pieces falling down the front of his hospital gown. He didn’t mind...the chips melting in his mouth felt almost as good as a steak dinner.

Though his brain was foggy no doubt from pain medication, it still went back to the events that precipitated his injury. How had this happened? He had a vague memory of Wendy’s voice above him, and the initial excruciating pain dulling to something tolerable, and Jack’s face above him in the medic van, tears falling from his face.

Jack. At least he hadn’t been hurt. At least…

A movement at the door drew his attention, and Jack was standing there, pain and affection both in his face.

“Hey…” Steve said drowsily, setting the cup down and reaching his good arm across the bed with a weak smile.

Jack entered, and pulled a chair to the bedside. “You’re awake.”

“Whot a brilliant observaetion…”

Jack smiled in relief at the familiar jest. “You scared the shit out of me you wanker.”

Steve smiled at him, and they looked at one another for a long moment.

“So how long ‘ave I been ‘ere then? Whot bloody day is it? Do me parents know…”

“They stabilized you last night and did surgery on your arm early this morning. It’s Sunday. You've been pretty much out of it all day. Your parents are flying down today, but I begged the nurses to let me see you.”

Steve grinned sleepily, then let it fade. “So who will be ‘elping you on the chain tomorrow? I imagine I will be laid up for a while.”

“I can’t see myself working with anyone else. You and I are a team.”

The affection in his voice was unmistakable, and a warmth spread through Steve’s chest. “Yeah...but...the show moost go on as they say.”

Jack looked at him, tears now pulling at the corners of his eyes. He moved a hand to cover it over Steve’s, squeezing it gently, and Steve blinked up at him, swallowing, moved. “Carefool now,” he said with a smile, “The nurse cood come back any minute.”

Jack looked back with a serious expression, his thumb gently rubbing his wrist. . “I don’t bloody care.”

Steve watched him, tears pricking his own eyes.

“You know I…” Jack pressed on, eyebrows pinched together, eyes full of emotion. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Steve turned his hand over to hold Jacks, squeezing back. “I loov you too.”


	16. The Volunteer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After reminiscing and taking his first phone call, Draco has a meeting with Clarence in his office with Arthur Weasley and Wendy to discuss the events of Saturday and find a replacement for Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know this is another short chapter, and sorry if that is frustrating to some. This is one way for me to keep inspired as I look for feedback, and not let too much time pass before I post. So this is what I will be doing this New Year's Eve, working on chapter 17. Hope everyone has a safe New Year!

“Dear Harry,

Was so good to see you yesterday, though it was too short. Yesterday afternoon was crazy. I don’t know if you’ve heard about the accident, but one of the volunteers on the site was injured pretty badly when a cement black fell unexpectedly. Personally I don’t think it was an accident, and…it would be so much better if I could talk to you.

Clarence has gotten me a muggle communication device called a cell phone...it’s amazing. Did I mention that before? You should talk to Arthur Weasley about getting one. 

Apparently I have made a good impression so far according to Clarence, and that feels very good. I have more assignments to complete, and I am doing a report on a book about...gay rights in the muggle world. Obviously it is a subject of personal interest to me. I don’t know about you, but I have only just recently come to terms...well...this is probably a discussion we should have in person. That’s a hint, Potter ;)

Ok, I do respect the decision we made to lay low, but I do miss you.

I hope you can get a cell phone so we can at least talk proper. Until then,

Yours, Draco”

Draco sent Harry the owl immediately after Sunday brunch with his mother.

*

Monday evening dusk finally prompted Draco to use his wand to turn the lights on and close his window as he sat working at his desk. Darkness was falling earlier as the season moved on, and Halloween was fast approaching, the nights getting colder. He glanced at the parchment Harry had owled the previous day in response to his, which he had propped up against the wall in front of him. Yes, it was a distraction, but by Merlin it seemed a proper adjunct to the subject matter he was studying...and he knew what October 31st meant to Harry.

His thoughts drifted to so many memories, the good and the bad. He and Harry hadn’t discussed the depth of their relationship; he knew, however, how he himself felt. Just when, exactly, had he fallen in love with Harry Potter?

Was it the first time he had laid eyes on him at Hogwarts? Or when Harry had come after him for stealing Longbottom’s remembrall during their first flying lesson? “Give it here Malfoy, or I’ll knock you off your broom!” Even then, the idea of Harry Potter knocking him anywhere had created a little pull in his chest. Getting a rise out of Potter during those early years had always been a highlight for him. Looking back, if he was honest, he finally understood why.

Things turned dark the summer before his sixth year. The memory of it caused great pain. The inevitability of where his path took him. The point of no return when he got the dark mark. The saying goodbye to his childhood forever, and the bitterness it left him with. The frustrated anger at Potter for following him to his booth on the Hogwarts express, and his own attempt to squash any further association with him, to cut the cords of childish dreams that could never be fulfilled. 

Ironically, though, it had had the opposite effect. Potter had become obsessed with him. The incident in the bathroom should have left him with permanent hatred, but somehow it hadn’t. Somehow it had left him more conflicted than ever as he tried and failed to fulfill the expectations of the dark lord. 

He recalled the shock at witnessing Dumbledore’s death after the cabinet had let the dark mark into Hogwarts. He recalled the surprising horror he had felt when they destroyed the great hall, and plundered through to create havoc. Isn’t that what he had expected? What his brain had been telling him in no way had prepared him for actually seeing it happen. It had all gone downhill for him and his parents from there, but there had been no chance to go back, no chance to fix his mistake. 

And then Harry had been captured and brought to the Manor. Keeping silent about his identity was the best thing he had ever done in his life.

He turned back to his book, sighing slightly, and picked up his quill to prepare to take more notes, when he heard a buzzing come from the cell phone he had placed next to the lamp. His first thought was maybe Harry had...but the caller ID said Clarence, and he remembered, a little guiltily, that he had been expecting an update on Steve.

He picked it up and opened the top and said a tentative “Hello?” He knew they would be having a conversation, but it still shocked him a bit to actually hear his voice.

“Hello Draco! Clarence here. How are you?”

“Clarence? So...this thing really works?”

“It does!”

“I’m doing ok...working on my report. How is Steve?”

“He came through surgery yesterday, and is doing well. He will need one more surgery to set his arm proper, but is in good spirits considering he will be laid off for quite a while.”

“That’s very good to hear. Have you spoken to…”

“His parents are here in town, and they are obviously upset over what happened; they asked for a full report. Carl apparently has said the chain inadvertently got released, and at present is listed as an accident. But I did speak with Arthur Weasley and Wendy, and...they would like the four of us to sit down and talk about what Carl said to you. Regardless of how the incident is filed, what he said was wrong, and they want to confront him...but not before...Arthur wants to talk to you about it…” He uncharacteristically trailed off.

Draco was pretty sure Arthur Weasley wasn’t ready to believe him on face value, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. After all, it was proper to get to the source before confronting someone. 

“Okay. When are we going to meet?”

“The plan was to meet in my office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. How does that work for you?”

“That works,” Draco answered, thinking wryly how could it not work? “How did things go on the site today, do you know?”

“Well,” Clarence began, a note of regret in his voice. “Today was an off day, they had everyone take a break. They haven’t found a replacement for Steve yet, and even Jack is reluctant to come back to work without him, though Steve is insisting he should.”

Draco let that simmer a moment. “What qualifications are they looking for?” He didn’t know why he asked that.

Clarence paused before answering. “There are a few willing, but it is going to take someone of a certain build and constitution to be able to slip under the rubble, and they just wouldn’t work. There haven’t been enough volunteers after what happened, and I can certainly understand that. They are looking to try and hire out.”

“Am I the right build?” He didn’t know why he asked that either. 

There was another pause. “Draco…are you saying you are considering volunteering?” 

“I...I hadn’t thought about it until this minute. I guess maybe I feel like I have a lot to make up for, and if they are having trouble finding someone...and I’ve never been a beefy guy, and…”

“Wow...I’m sure your offer would be much appreciated, but you know they need someone daily. Most of the muggle volunteers are between jobs.”

Draco hesitated only a moment. “I’d be willing to do that. I’m not doing anything else, and I could still get your assignments done.”

“That makes me so proud, but I wouldn’t be able to be there during the week, and that is a necessary part of the probation. I will let them know you were willing though...that will mean a lot to them. Hopefully they can find a volunteer that will work soon.”

Draco exhaled a bit of air. He had meant it, but there were equal parts disappointment and relief that swirled in his chest.

“So, we’ll see you in my office tomorrow morning at ten then.”

“Yes, and...thank you again...for everything.”

Draco closed the phone and touched it a moment, again awed by being able to speak to someone. Harry had said in his owl delivery that he would ask about getting one, and he couldn’t wait to be able to speak with him so easily.

*

He had to admit, he was nervous about the meeting that would include Arthur Weasley in the small, private office. Not that things hadn’t gone well on Saturday, and he knew Arthur was a decent man. Still, there was a difference in being on the work site and being in a private meeting. He recalled being nervous the first time he had come to this office, and things had gone well. He would get through this too.

After knocking, he entered when Clarence called him in to find Wendy and Arthur seated by Clarence’s desk, Arthur in a plaid muggle jacket, a third chair waiting for him. “Hello Wendy,” he greeted as he sat, then nodded to Arthur. “Mr. Weasley.”

“Hello Draco,” Wendy answered.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Arthur nodded back.

“Glad you could make it, Draco,” Clarence began. “I believe we will just get right to it. Arthur, I will let you take it from here.” 

Arthur Weasley looked to Draco. “How about we start with you just explaining what went on that day at lunch and what was said.”

Draco cleared his throat and made a point to make eye contact before beginning. “I was in the lunch line behind Steve and Jack. I struck up a conversation with them because I was impressed with their work on the chain.”

Arthur nodded, encouraging him, and Wendy was leaned forward, her eyes intently on him.

“When they went to their seats, I noticed Carl behind me, and I heard him...I heard him say a slur.”

“What did he say, Draco.” Wendy spoke like she already was prepared to be angry, and he knew what he was about to say had already been shared with them.

“He said…’fags’ and I knew what that word meant. I turned to him and he said to me, ‘You heard me’ and then told me I was new, and warned me to stay away from them cause they were ‘light in the loafers.’

Wendy’s face flushed an angry red, and Arthur leaned his elbows on his knees with bunched eyebrows. “What did you say?”

“Well...I suppose I was right cross with him. I told him I thought they seemed nice, then...went to eat lunch with them.” It occurred to Draco then that in a way he may have provoked Carl’s response, and he was suddenly sickened. “After lunch he was glaring at me. I didn’t mean to make him upset,” he said quickly, looking at Clarence with a pained expression. “I probably should have just sat with you. I’m sorry if I…”

“This is NOT your fault, Draco.” Wendy stated firmly. “I would have done the same.”

Arthur was watching him carefully, blinking and rubbing his hands together.

“Damn that Carl,” Wendy continued, and turned to Arthur. “I’m telling you, I have suspected Carl’s hate for those boys for a long while. Just that morning, he was gunning the engine at them, and I can’t prove it, but I know it. He doesn’t belong on the project, and I want him gone.”

“Did anybody else hear your conversation?” Arthur asked Draco, and it was a plea. “Anybody at all?” 

All three of them looked at him intently, and in that space, Draco knew his words had been given credence, had been believed, with no doubt, and the moment left him almost trembling.

“I wish I could say yes. There were people moving around us getting food, but I don’t recall anyone paying attention.”

They all leaned back in disappointment, but Wendy turned to Arthur with stubborn resolve. “I want him GONE Arthur.”

“Wendy…”

“We reserve the right to send anyone home for any reason. There are no unions on this project, and I’ll be damned if I have that man...who I personally have no doubt caused that accident on purpose...to be anywhere near my volunteers again.”

Clarence cleared his throat. “Has anybody spoken to Steve or his parents about the allegations regarding Carl?”

Arthur sighed. “They were very upset, naturally. They wanted a police report. Carl was called in yesterday and he explained the incident, gave his apologies and condolences, and it has been written off as an accident.” He looked tiredly towards Clarence. “With only one witness to Carl’s comments, I’m not sure there is anything we can do to change that, is there?”

They all sat quietly, knowing the answer. “It would be extremely difficult to prove in front of a judge at the courthouse, and in the end could cause more harm than good.”

After a moment of thick, depressive tension, Wendy grumbled to herself, “Curse this bloody system.” 

“Arthur,” Clarence continued, “Did Steve’s parents make any mention of...holding the project accountable?”

“Like I said, they were upset, but...I understand Steve and Jack presented a strong united front on that...” He paused as if deciding how to expound on the statement, but then said simply, “I highly doubt there will be any injunctions against the project.”

“That’s my boys for you,” Wendy postured, then turned to Arthur. “So, do we explain to Carl why we are sending him off, or just tell him we found a new driver to avoid unnecessary unpleasantness? I’ll run the damn thing myself until we actually find someone.”

“Alright, Wendy,” Arthur finally agreed with another sigh. “I will talk to him and explain that under the circumstances we have elected to find a replacement for him.”

Wendy took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“So,” Clarence began, taking this as his cue to take back charge of the meeting. “In addition to finding a replacement for Steve, there will be a search for a driver. I’d like to take this moment to tell you that Draco here expressed his willingness to volunteer as a replacement for Steve. While his probation won’t allow for that, I thought it important you should know.”

Wendy and Arthur looked at him in mild surprise, and then Wendy smiled, saying “Bless your heart,” to which Draco shrugged in embarrassment, staring at his shoes, feeling his cheeks turn pink.

“That is very commendable Mr. Malfoy,” Arthur told him, then addressed Clarence. “Actually we have procured a volunteer just this morning, someone who will work out very nicely.” 

Draco looked up at him quickly while Clarence clapped his hands together, and Arthur glanced back at Draco with a curious expression. 

“Excellent!” Clarence exclaimed. “Anyone we know?”

“Yes,” Arthur turned back to Clarence, then looked to everyone in turn, letting his gaze stay on Draco. “I believe you all know Harry Potter.”


	17. Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Saturday Harry joins Draco's group on the bridge turns out to be quite the event-filled day, but it's not over yet...especially for Draco and Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Things are moving right along with our story, perhaps faster than I intended; my original thought was to create twists and turns with both plot lines (Draco/Harry, Jack/Steve) throughout Draco's six-month probation, but... this chapter led me through and sort of showed me how things actually happened, and who am I to argue?

Draco spent the rest of the day and into Wednesday alternating between trying to work on his book report and pacing his room. He was anxious to hear from Harry, but...he was reluctant to be the one to send him an owl first. He imagined Harry would be excited to share the news with him, and surely he would be getting an owl soon. Though Harry was most likely already on the site being trained in for his new role. 

He wanted to wait for it...he wanted...ok, there was a little seed of pride that didn’t always want to be the one to send an owl first. Surely Harry would have been able to send him an owl last night telling him the news.

Unless he wanted to surprise him on Saturday. 

Oh for Merlin’s sake, he needed to exercise a little patience, or he would be driven mad. He sat down to his quill and parchment and opened his book to where he had left off and concentrated on putting his thoughts on parchment. 

He didn’t leave his room until dinner time, where he joined his mother for a quick meal. He had already told her about the events on Saturday and the meeting, but hadn’t mentioned the fact Harry would be joining their group. He wanted to avoid any potential lectures. 

After finishing his meal, he decided to go for a walk around the grounds just to get some fresh air. He needed his outer cloak to ward off the chill, and tried to empty his mind of any worries or thoughts of a certain dark haired wizard as he stuffed his hands in the pockets, fingering his phone. The trees had lost more than half their leaves, and the moon and stars were already making their presence known in the darkening sky. He stopped by the small pond, and listened for the night birds, watching the reflection of the moon ripple across the surface. The owls would be out soon.

Owls. Harry.

He closed his eyes and focused his mind on the meeting again...on the the feeling of validation and...dare he think it...respect he had gotten from the others, particularly Arthur Weasley. The feeling left something very satisfying in the depth of his soul. This is what his rehabilitation was all about...what he had hoped for. And though there were many months to go, in a way he sensed the biggest hurdle had been successfully navigated. He turned and made his way back to the manor.

He decided to take a long, hot shower before picking up his book again, and undressed, leaving his phone on the desk. Ignoring his wand, he let the water run waiting for it to get steamy. He really was picking up some rather muggle habits, but there was something to be said for anticipation. Finally stepping under the hot, steady stream, he let the water fall over his head, through his hair, and down his body, enjoying its warmth as it washed away the chill of the night air.

Through the sounds of the running water, he heard a sharp chirping that repeated every few seconds, and recognized the sound of his phone. His heart jumped, and shutting off the water he tiptoed out of the slippery shower as fast as he dared, grabbed a towel and quickly dried his hands before picking up his phone. The caller ID was an unrecognized number, and his heart quickened. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he sat on the bed and flipped the phone open.

“Hello?” He was aware his voice sounded anxious and breathy, and water dropped from his hair down his forehead and the back of his neck. He stood and reached for his wand and cast a drying spell to his head.

“Hello...Draco?”

Draco’s breath caught in his chest as he recognized Harry’s voice.

“Yes. Harry? You got a phone? My number?”

Harry chuckled, but refrained from making a smart remark. “I did, thanks to Arthur Weasley. He pulled some strings.”

“Suddenly Arthur is my new hero.” He was still marveling that they were actually talking, and he felt the emotion in his words.

“It’s good to hear your voice.” 

Harry’s voice sounded closer in his ear, and suddenly questions about volunteering and the project didn’t seem important at all. “It’s good to hear yours too.”

There was a slight pause, then Harry said, “I have some good news for you. You may have even already heard, but I volunteered to replace Steve on the chain.”

“Yes! I DID hear that. There was a meeting, and when Arthur told us, I was...I mean I feel bad for Steve, but…”

“You had a meeting with Arthur Weasly?”

Draco paused at that, reflecting it was something he could have perhaps owled Harry about. “Yes, there was...it had to do with the man running the bulldozer. I overheard him say some...rather unpleasant things about Steve and Jack, so they wanted to talk to me.”

“Steve and Jack? Jack must be the one I will be working with then.”

“You haven’t started yet?”

“We start tomorrow. Jack wanted more time to...get used to the idea, so I had a sort of orientation day. Why would someone say nasty things...the same guy with the bulldozer that caused the accident? That sounds kinda bad.”

“Yeah, that was my thought. He thinks...he called them a derogatory term. The man, Carl, he also warned me to steer clear and not make friends with them.” Draco spoke tightly. “Kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Who…”

“You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” His attempt to sound like his younger self was pretty pathetic.

“Oh...you mean…”. Harry laughed softly. “And did you tell him thanks, but you could tell the right sort for yourself?”

“Kind of, yeah. To be honest, it didn’t occur to me until afterwards, I was just so angry. Not that I didn’t already know, but I really was a horrible git back at school.”

“Yeah, you were,” Harry answered, but there was affection in his voice,

Draco was suddenly reminded that he was naked save for the towel wrapped around his waist, and decided to shuck it and climb under the covers of his bed. He tried to ignore his stirring of arousal.

“So…”. Harry continued, “It sounds like a horrible accident. And you were there when it happened?”

“Yes, it was pretty brutal. Wendy Shanks is pretty upset about the whole thing.” He was tempted to share his strong suspicion that she was a witch...but then Harry probably knew that. “There’s not much we can do unfortunately, as there is not enough proof that it wasn’t an accident. But they are going to cancel Carl from the project and get a new driver.”

“It’s a shame magic can’t be used to heal Steve.” 

Harry still sounded like his mouth was very close to his phone, and Merlin help him, but the subject matter drifted to the back of his mind as his body continued to respond. 

“Those were my thoughts as well,” he said, realizing his voice sounded a bit tight and breathy. He felt his cheeks redden. 

“Draco?” Harry asked with a question in his voice, and that wasn’t helpful at all. 

“Sorry, I’m just...I’m looking forward to seeing you on Saturday. I miss you…”

“I miss you too.” He answered, and his voice had a tight catch in it. “I will call you tomorrow to let you know how the day went.”

“Okay. It’s a date.” 

He had the presence of mind to create a contact with Harry’s name, then tossed the phone on his desk before turning on his side, thinking of a set of emerald eyes, round glasses, skin set tightly over a jawline leading to a grin made of very kissable lips, and groaned into his pillow. 

*

Anticipating Harry’s phonecalll distracted Draco most of the next day, imagining how his day was going, and wondering how he and Jack were doing on the chain. He did manage to make progress on his book report, though, and by supper time had it mostly completed. 

His phone rang as he was finishing his evening meal, and quickly excused himself as he answered, climbing the stairs to his room.

“Hello, Harry?”

“Hey, Draco. I just got home, and wanted to talk to you right away.”

“How did it go? Is anything wrong?”

“No, Jack and I worked well together. Before we started, though, Wendy introduced us to the new driver, a muggle sub contractor. He was using the same dozer as Carl had, and Wendy made a point to ask him about the chain, and how, in his opinion, the accident could have happened.”

“That sounds like Wendy,” Draco commented, his heart speeding up slightly, going into his room and sitting on the bed.

“Yeah. The thing is, this new guy, a Mr. Humphrey, said there was a chain release on the dashboard, but he wasn’t sure how the chain could be released accidentally once it was locked. The lock is in a completely different spot to avoid mistakes. It was kind of obvious what Wendy was thinking, and Jack was kind of stressed at her implications, like he hadn’t even considered…”

“Oh…Merlin, Harry, was there any discussion…”

“Well, we proceeded to work on the project, but Wendy was in a mood, and I know she spoke with Arthur during the day. Your conversation with Carl didn’t come up...that I know of, but..she spoke with Jack privately and I have a feeling Wendy isn’t going to let this drop. I’m wondering if anyone has gone to Clarence about it.”

“Not that I know of. Clarence had told me earlier that it would be up to Steve to pursue any charges. If Wendy knows this, I wonder if she prodded Jack.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t feel it was my place to ask questions, but Jack was pretty quiet all day. I don’t know him well…”

“He and Steve usually were pretty humorous together, always joking with each other. It has to be hard for him.”

There was a pause, then Harry asked tentatively, “Draco, what did Carl say about them?”

“He...called them a muggle slang word that...referred to two guys…”

“Muggle slang?”

“I’ve been ensconced in muggle studies Harry, and have been reading a lot about...the gay community, and the struggles they have had. I recognized the word when Carl spoke to me. And...given we are...it just really was personal to me you see, and while I don’t know the nature of Steve and Jack’s relationship, I took it personally, and one reason I got so mad at him.”

Harry was quiet for a few moments, and Draco let the silence sit between them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but one filled with thick understanding. 

“Draco….”

“I know.”

After a moment, Draco said, “Maybe I will send Clarence a text asking if he has heard anything, or if Wendy’s discussion with Mr. Humphrey changes anything.”

“Ok.”

The thick silence vibrated between them, one filled with emotion that threatened to engulf Draco. 

“Harry, I…I miss you…”

“Me too. Just...now that we will be working together, I…we really can’t…”

“I understand, Harry, it’s fine,” and he winced a bit at his false casual tone.

“Ok,” Harry exhaled, “I will see you on Saturday, ok? It will be good to see you.”

“Yes it will. I’ll see you then.”

*

Saturday didn’t come soon enough, and he and Clarence were still discussing things as they prepared to apparate. He had given him his completed assignment, with a promise from Clarence they would discuss last week's report when they got back. Draco had decided to just wait and speak to Clarence in person about Steve’s situation rather than text him.

“It’s wonderful that Harry Potter is able to volunteer so the project can commence. I understand he and Jack are working well together,” Clarence said, moving around his desk.

“Yes.” Draco answered simply, adjusting his rucksack that held water and a snack. “Arthur got him a cell phone,” he added.

“Ah, excellent. Have you communicated with him then?”

Draco tried to analyze the undertones of the question, then decided he was being silly. “Yes, we spoke a few times,” he answered, willing his cheeks to remain a neutral pale. “He said Wendy spoke to the new dozer driver about the...accident, that there was new evidence.”

“Yes, Arthur, Wendy and I spoke of that.” He grimaced slightly. “According to the new driver, the controls of the chain were made to avoid the kind of accident that happened. It does give the idea that it may have been purposeful more credibility, but...two things. Steve still needs to be the one to press charges. We spoke briefly with Jack, and whether or not Steve would want to talk about it. He will get back to us. And there is the motivation factor, and you are the only one who can testify to that.” He shrugged. “Since Carl is off the project, they may decide to just let well enough alone. I know Wendy has strong feelings, but it ultimately isn’t up to her.”

Draco nodded, understanding that, then changed the subject. “It was a bit surreal being able to talk to Harry on the phone.”

“Excellent,” he said again. “I’m sure you are finding this muggle device a very effective tool. Just a friendly reminder,” he continued casually, “we are all just muggles coming together to volunteer to help.”

Draco pushed down the defensive response that rose in him. “Yes, I still can’t get over being able to talk to someone like that. I...I know Harry and I can’t just talk about our Wizarding days.” He hoped he didn’t sound annoyed. Clarence had been a better mentor than he had ever hoped for.

In typical Clarence fashion, he just smiled back at him. “I know. Considering what you have been through, and the fact Harry is the one who gave the deciding testimony, it would be easy for anyone to forget themselves and speak of things better left unsaid. But there is nothing wrong with being friendly, Draco. Shall we?”

He nodded, and they apparated to the bridge.

*

As he and Clarence, fully fortified with helmets and gloves, made their way down the bridge, he spotted Harry speaking with Jack as the rest of the group gathered around the chunk of cement that would be moved. He grinned at the unfamiliar yellow hard hat that sat on his head, squishing down his already messy hair. He wore the same brown jacket he had worn during the battle of Hogwarts. Jack had an uncharacteristically subdued expression, and Draco could only imagine what he was feeling.

He looked to the bulldozer and it’s new driver. He was an older grey-haired man with a patient look on his face, not unfriendly, and Draco felt an immense relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with Carl again.

As they approached, Wendy greeted them warmly. “Hello! So happy to say, Mr. Harry Potter has been working with us on the chain, and Mr. Humphrey has joined us as our new driver!” 

Everyone nodded at each other, Draco exchanging smiles with Harry, his chest filling, and he was quite sure he spotted a faint pink flush Harry’s cheeks, and he had to look away. Neville was there of course along with the other Gryffindors, all of them smiling and nodding along. It was just a strange experience, feeling a part of some sort of secret association, which, to be fair, was kind of accurate.

“Okay, everyone in their places!” Wendy called, all business, and there was no more time for small talk. 

Draco couldn’t help watching Harry as he and Jack prepared the chain and got in their places. They had already been doing this together, he reminded himself, though he couldn’t help feeling a bit anxious. As they all gathered around the brick waiting for the countdown, Harry and Jack nodded to one another, and Draco forced himself to concentrate on the job at hand. 

At the countdown they all lifted, and Harry wriggled his way under the cement stone, meeting Jack in the middle, and shuffled his way quickly out again. Draco experienced some anxiety as visions of the accident flashed in front of him, his hold on the cement tightening as if to keep it in place by himself if need be, but It was swift and efficient. Wendy gave the all clear, and the lifters pulled back to let the bulldozer take over. Jack withdrew with the chain, guiding it back into its place in the dozer without looking back at the others. 

Draco looked to Harry, but the group of Gryffindors were already congratulating him on another job well done. Harry thanked them, then looked up at him with a small smile, and he smiled back. Clarence, Neville, and a few others had grabbed brooms to sweep, but Jack was off alone starting to pick up rocks. With another look at the group around Harry, he moved towards Jack to have a word with him.

“Hello, Jack,” he began as he joined him in picking up rocks. Jack gave a weak smile and nodded. “I just...I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Thank you...Draco, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you Draco, I appreciate it.”

That seemed to be all the conversation he was up for, and Draco didn’t press, but simply turned to continue help him pick up rocks, and then Harry joined them. 

“Hey,” he said to him.

“Um...hey...Harry, right? I’m Draco.” He had to admit he felt a bit foolish as they shook hands and grinned at one another, though he allowed the hand contact to linger more than necessary, and Harry ran a finger to tickle against his palm as they let go. Such a simple gesture of contact resulted in an inner shiver of electricity, and the look in Harry’s eye as they broke contact told him he wasn’t alone. 

Jack came back from the rock pile and stood beside them, giving Harry a small smile. “Thanks again for helping out. I didn’t think we were going to get anyone for a long time...it’s…”. He sighed. “It’s odd not having Steve on the other end. But he’s grateful...last night he said to be sure and tell you thank you, so...that is from him.”

“I’m happy I was able to help. Tell him he is very welcome, and I hope he has a speedy recovery.”

“If I may ask,” Draco began tentatively, “How is his arm coming along?”

“Well...it is feeling much better, but he won’t be able to use it for a long while. He needs another surgery next week, though he is home again until then.” He paused, blinked, looking away briefly, then tried to smile at them. “I’m doing most of the cooking now, which he is giving me heck about cause I’m shite at it, but…”

Draco concluded they must be roommates, but wasn’t about to ask any invasive questions. 

Jack turned to face both of them then, a serious look on his face, and opened his mouth as if to say something. They looked at him expectantly, and he took a deep breath.

“Steve and I are in a relationship. He is my boyfriend.”

This fact didn’t particularly surprise Draco, but he was a bit nonplussed at the sudden declaration, and felt Harry’s little intake of breath.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to just blurt that out. But after what happened we’ve decided to be open about it, and we don’t care what people think anymore.”

Jack spoke in a tone that was almost challenging, though not aggressive, and Draco answered quickly. “Congratulations. I think that’s great.”

Jack visibly relaxed and smiled, then Harry added, “I am in agreement with Draco. It must feel good to talk about it, and while I know I am no replacement for Steve,” he coughed slightly, “I am proud to be able to work with you.”

Jack chuckled softly in a moment of lightheartedness, an expression of wry humor on his face. “And we are grateful.”

The fact Jack and Steve were being open about things caused Draco to remember Carl’s comments, and he wondered if Jack had spoken to Steve about Wendy’s suspicions. But it really wasn’t his place to enquirer about it; like Clarence said, it was up to Steve, and no one else’s business.

The bulldozer was on its way back, and Wendy called them all to the next chunk of cement. Harry and Draco fell behind Jack as they moved forward, and they exchanged looks, Draco struggling not to reach for Harry’s hand. He imagined what it would be like for them to be able to walk down the street arm in arm, smiling at Neville and the rest of them, and Harry’s expression told him he had similar thoughts. His own heart itched and ached, but having Harry with him on the project was worth every bit of it.

The rest of the morning passed, Harry on the chain with Jack falling into a familiar, efficient rhythm. During the break, Harry, Neville and Draco chatted about how it was going on the chain, but an unspoken vibe floated among them, Neville glancing between them occasionally. Draco fixed a natural, neutral expression, but his insides fluttered with what an unusual picture they must make to the other Gryffindors mulling around them. Life sure had a way of taking unexpected turns.

At lunch, Draco found himself surrounded by Clarence, Harry, Jack, Neville, Wendy, the Gryffindors dispersed down the table amongst the muggles. The person on the far side of Jack, who Draco couldn’t remember the name but was another muggle on the project, struck up a conversation as they were seated.

“I’m proud of you, mate,” he smiled, patting Jack on the back.

Jack smiled and nodded before digging into today’s meal of thick noodles with meat sauce and garlic bread. He and Steve’s relationship seemed to be common knowledge at this point. Wendy, two seats down, glanced over and raised her lemonade. “Cheers!” Several others joined her, and Draco raised his own glass, followed by Harry. Jack gave a sheepish grin, his cheeks a slight pink, in acknowledgment. Draco heard Wendy turn to Clarence. 

“Several of us are meeting afterwards to have dinner at a local pub. As we talked about, you and Draco are welcome if you are able.”

Clarence turned to Draco, speaking to both of them. “Yes, I mentioned this to Draco last week. I wasn’t sure we would be doing it so soon, but perhaps the timing is right?” He raised an eyebrow at Draco in question. 

Draco’s gaze automatically lifted towards Harry, who looked between him and Clarence expectantly. Clarence shifted to Harry with an understanding look. “Harry, you are invited too, as our new member. Perhaps we can get Mr. Humphrey on board as well, hm?” He looked down the table as if trying to spot him, 

“I’d like that,” Harry answered politely, “Thanks for inviting me.”

Draco tried to still the butterflies that rose in his stomach at the foreign concept of he and Harry out for a social engagement with a group of people. Harry peeked at him from under his fringe as he scooped a forkful of noodles.

“Say, Jack,” Wendy bent around Clarence as she addressed him. “I do hope you can make it”

Jack swallowed his mouthful before answering. “I...am thinking about it. It depends on...maybe. Where are you meeting?”

“The Anchor. It’s not too far, they have a great menu, and a pretty good selection of lager. Plus, it’s casual enough we can just pop over when we are done here.”

“Sounds good, but I will need to go home first...to talk to Steve, see how he’s feeling.”

“Oh, absolutely. Glad to hear he can be home for a bit. Be sure to tell him we all miss him, and wish he could join us.”

Jack looked around at their faces with a small smile. “I will do that”

*

This was the first time Draco had been in a muggle establishment of any kind. The large exterior was made of brown brick and stone, with red accents on the windows. The group had been allowed the use of a trolly, Wendy speaking as a tour guide of sorts, and Draco suspected it was for the benefit of those, like himself, who were unfamiliar with the pub. She had said it was one of the oldest pubs in the area, going back hundreds of years, set on the south side of the Thames River.

Inside, the lighting was dim but warm, with different seating areas from small tables with red and green leather chairs to an area with wood floors and tables, a few of them pushed together to create room for a larger group. It was a busy Saturday, but they were lucky enough that another group had just left, and a rather harried looking waitress motioned them forward. 

“It’ll be just a moment,” the busy waitress said to them, moving quickly to clear off the tables, gathering the dishes on a tray she balanced on one hand. Draco was sorely tempted to reach for his wand to give her some help. The place was pretty full, and dozens of conversations buzzed around him, the clinking of silverware, distant laughter, jovial gawfs at private jokes. A bar on the far wall was lined with seated customers, and from the sound of things had been there a while, enjoying whatever alcoholic fare the place had to offer.

Their waitress scurried away to the kitchens and returned quickly with a rag to wipe the tables and an armful of menus. A sudden thought occurred to Draco, and he bent close to Clarence.

“I have no muggle money.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I got you covered.” 

Uncomfortable, he looked to Harry and the rest of the wizards who were there. Other than Neville, Wendy, and two of the Gryffindors, they were the only ones. Perhaps they all carried muggle money with them, or had been better prepared. Looking around at the group, there were perhaps five muggles from the project, and everyone chatted together while waiting for the table to be prepared. 

When they were all finally being seated, he made a point to sit across from Harry, who was in between Neville and Wendy. Clarence sat to the left of Draco, and the chair to his right remained empty. Wendy pointed to it.

“Let’s save that seat for Jack when he comes.”

Draco nodded and picked up his menu, looking over the edge to Harry. Harry grinned slightly and looked back to him over his own before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses as his eyes pursued the menu choices.

“I’ll be back with a couple pitchers of water for everyone,” the waitress breathed, pulling out a pad and pen. “Would anyone like something else to drink to start?”

The muggles of the group started rattling off requests as the waitress scribbled them down just as quickly. Draco glanced over at Neville who was nibbling at his lower lip at the menu, a question on his brow; he looked up at Draco, who gave a little shrug, then looked past Harry to Wendy. “What’s good here?”

Draco smiled to himself. He was glad he wasn’t the only one a little lost. He shared glances with Harry again, and something in his eyes created a little buzz in his chest.

“If you like beer, they have a great assortment of ale. Otherwise, they have a full bar...just remember, folks,” Wendy addressed everyone, “Drink responsibly, we all have to get home!”

With that admonition in mind, Draco looked to the ales listed on the drink portion of the menu.

“Personally,” Clarence said, looking up from his own menu, “I prefer the ‘The Old Speckled Hen.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Draco answered, and the waitress took his order, Harry and Neville following suit. 

They went through something similar with the food menu, and in the end, they all ordered fish and chips, receiving their drinks gratefully. The ale wasn’t bad, and after a tentative sip, Draco took a long drink. 

The experience felt very surreal to Draco...sitting in a muggle restaurant, in muggle clothes, chatting with Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, listening to the relaxed laughter of the muggles surrounding them...if Lucius Malfoy could see him now.

The thought came unbidden, and wasn’t a welcome one. A touch of sadness filled him, and he stared down into his half-empty glass, wondering what was happening to his father while he himself enjoyed an ale with their once-sworn enemies…

The thought was very disturbing...the thought that they had once been viewed as his enemies...and a finger of guilt stabbed him. No, he reminded himself. They were not enemies anymore. He was making up for all that now. He felt Harry's eyes on him, and he looked up to find them staring at him with mild concern. His mind went to the room of Requirement and the victory he had there, the Phoenix patronus, and…

He smiled at Harry to reassure him somehow as food finally came and baskets of hot, grease-smelling fried fish and potatoes were passed under their noses, along with a second round of drinks, and they happily dug into their food. Which, Draco thought as he tasted his first bite, was pretty good. That, and even more so the fact he was among friends, was pretty amazing.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, closing his eyes, “not bad at all.”

“Oh my god!” He heard Wendy cry out happily, and he opened his eyes quickly to find the whole group turned to his end of the table with joyous expressions of greetings. He turned to find Jack...and standing beside him with his casted arm in a sling, Steve...next to it. Steve’s free hand was intertwined with one of Jack’s. Jack’s other arm waved to the group.

“Hey! Steve here insisted on coming along, and I let him only if he promised to stay a short while.”

Steve grinned. “See, ‘e still givin’ me o’ders, no bweak fo’ the invalid!”

Wendy pointed to the chair next to Draco, and said, “Sit, and grab another chair, Jack!”

Steve sat next to Draco and smiled at him. “I rememba you! How’s it goin’, lad?”

Draco, pleased to be remembered, smiled back. “Good, thanks. I certainly remember you too. Glad to see you doing well.”

As Jack pulled a chair and sat at the end of the table, a loud pocket of laughter came from the bar, mixed with growls, as if something unpleasant had happened. Draco glanced over. He could only see their backs, but it was crowded and some were standing. One of the figures was vaguely familiar, and Draco looked closer with narrowed eyes before turning back to the group.

“The drinks are on me,” Wendy was saying to Steve and Jack, as everyone’s attention was now on their side of the table.

“I can’t have a proper drink, of cou’se ,” Steve lamented. “Pain meds, you know. I’ll just ‘ave to ‘ave me a butta beer!” He laughed as if making a joke, but Draco, Harry, and Neville, as one, looked at him with mild shock before thinking that may have not been the wisest thing. Steve looked back at them.

“What, you never read the faiwy tale? Me mum always read to me ‘The Tale of Wizardly Woorlocks.’ They drink butta bea’ you know, and I always asked her to make me soom.”

“Oh,” Harry said with silent laughter on his face. “THAT butter beer!” With continued mirth, he raised his glass, and they all laughed as he pulled a long drink. Neville turned to his pint and quickly joined him. Draco looked to Clarence, who only winked at him.

“Ok!” Wendy suddenly called to the group, and stood with her glass raised. “I propose a toast to Steve and Jack! To courage and love!” Then she smiled and lifted a spoon and started tapping her glass of ale. The muggles all gleefully joined in, along with playful “ooohs and “yeses.” It must have been some sort of signal, because Jack and Steve grinned at each other with affection, stood up, and kissed each other on the mouth right there at the table, Jack caressing Steve’s cheek. 

The kiss was a rather romantic one, and something pulled in Draco’s chest. While everyone hooted and clapped in approval, Draco met Harry's eyes and shifted to his lips. The corner of his mouth was turned up and then he seemed to subtly bite down on his lower lip. Under the table, Draco moved his foot until it touched Harry’s boot, and then while keeping eye contact, lifted his toe over Harry’s and slowly applied pressure and kept it there, blinking slowly at him. Harry’s eyes flickered then smoldered, and Draco never imagined that playing footsy could be so damn sexy. 

Harry pulled his eyes away and coughed into his fist, shifting in his seat, as Steve and Jack bowed and sat back down to the applause of the group. 

Draco shifted in his own seat, and took a long drink of his second glass of ale. It must have been a strong brew, or perhaps because he hadn’t had a drink since his mother’s party, but a mild biz started whirling. Memories of he and Harry’s time in the room of Requirement flashed in his brain, and he knew he had to stop it. 

Everyone was happy, joyful, finishing up their order of potatoes, Steve and Jack sort of in their own little world, Wendy and Clarence chatting about something, Harry avoiding his eyes as he, himself, and Neville chatted idly like old friends, when a shadow and large presence fell over their side of the table. 

“So! You decide to disgrace The Anchor, do you?”

The voice was loud and rude, and Draco looked up, shocked, to see Carl standing there, angry and drunk, but still sober enough to hold his own as he glared at Steve and Jack. Everyone stared in shocked silence for a moment, and then Carl’s anger turned right on Draco.

“You!” He sputtered. “You miserable...what did I tell you, boy!” 

Draco felt Clarence’s hand on his arm, but suddenly he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “ I don’t remember, Carl...when did you tell me anything?” 

He felt Wendy’s eyes bore intense holes into him as he looked to Carl for the answer.

“I told you last week! I told you to stay away from these little faggots, but you wouldn’t listen, would you! You wouldn’t listen, and NOW look at them, thinking they can come in here and spread their filth…” 

Jack grew red with anger, and made to stand, but Steve put a hand out to stop him.

“That’s ENOUGH Carl!” Wendy stood then herself. 

“You think you are so smart, Shanks.” He leaned towards her threateningly. “But even the cops don’t believe you!” 

At this point, Carl’s companions were there trying to pull him away.

“Shut up, you idiot!” One of them growled in his ear, but Carl promptly turned and punched him in the mouth. The man fell back, wiping blood, then turned away angrily. “Fine, screw yourself, you drunken ass!”

Two large bouncers quickly made their way over and laid hands on Carl, pulling him away while he shouted and cursed them, trying in vain to lay a punch. “Call the police,” one of the bouncers said to the other, Carl continuing to yell obscenities as they drug him away.

Everyone at the table sat in shocked silence for a moment, the mood of the night spoiled. Angry tears threatened to spill from Jack, and he began to pull on Steve’s jacket as he stood again. Wendy looked at Steve with thinly controlled anger, a hand raised to Jack. 

“What happened to you was no accident, Steve.” She looked to Draco and nodded at him in approval, and then spoke to Clarence. “Well, Mr. Peabody...do we have enough witnesses?”

*

Freshly showered and in his dressing gown, Draco lay back against the pillows on his bed thinking about everything that had happened that day. A lot had happened. Harry at the work site, his sheepish grins, his cheeks reddening at certain moments, the looks exchanged, his ready smile for those around him...his response to him from a simple bit of footsie. Steve and Jack coming out, dinner at the pub, Carl showing up and inadvertently opening the case against himself. 

What stuck out in his mind was the ongoing feeling that he had been among friends...and this feeling of what it meant to be among friends, to be appreciated for something noble, continued to grow until he wasn’t sure there was room for more and his heart might burst. He wanted...he needed... to share his feelings with Harry.

Wendy had left the pub with Steve and Jack, the trolley had brought the rest of them back to the bridge site where the muggles went their separate ways and the wizards left via the apparation point. Draco accompanied Clarence back to his office just long enough for Draco to collect his robes and thank Clarence for his commendation on a job well done, and a promise from Clarence they would discuss his assignments next week and to keep Draco updated on the legal situation.

The simple goodbye to Harry after being dropped off by the trolley driver was woefully inadequate. 

Draco picked up his phone, but before he could make a call, it buzzed indicating an incoming text. He opened it to find a message from Clarence.

*Draco, just wanted to let you know Wendy informed me that Carl made such a stink at the pub they put him in an overnight cell for disorderly conduct. She took Steve, Jack, and Jack’s parents down to the station. Steve is lodging a formal complaint against him for willful assault. Just wanted to give you the heads up, you will probably be asked to speak to their lawyer this week. Since it will be in the muggle court system, you being on probation won’t be an issue to be a witness. Also, I promise we WILL discuss your book reports next week ;) Again, very proud of you!*

Mildly shocked but very pleased at the news, it was one more thing to add to his list. The feeling of being appreciated, of making a difference for good, now spilled over, and he sent a quick reply to Clarence confirming he would of course be more than happy to speak to the lawyer and thanked him for his confidence.

He took a moment to absorb the news before calling Harry, but once again, an incoming text interrupted him. Opening his phone, he saw it was a simple text from Harry.

*Draco…*

Staring at his name, emotions whirling in his chest, he waited for more. And waited. Turning on his side, head propped on one hand, he used the other to type a response. 

*Harry…*

Pushing send, Draco smiled slowly as he waited, then licked his lips as a minute went by. Finally a response popped up.

*Draco, I never realized what a fetish I had for feet…*

As Draco lay back again against the pillows, he heard his heart start a loud thumping, and felt it bang against his chest. Harry was still thinking about his footsie game, was still thinking about him, and right this minute they were thinking about each other...wanting each other. 

His fingers went to the keyboard to type out a response.

*Me either* he began, then paused for a moment before continuing, heart pounding. *Then again, I never realized before what a fetish I had for round glasses, emerald eyes, and messy hair. I never realized what a fetish I had for lips that tell the truth, or simple pleasures like sharing fish-in-chips at a muggle pub, or the feeling of doing something good for someone, for being a friend. I never realized what a fetish I had for someone who sticks up for their friends, and even their enemies. I never realized what a fetish I had for a hero..*

He pressed send with shaking fingers, then hugged the phone to his chest, eyes closed, and waited for a response. He had thought to call Harry, but Harry had started with a text, and...there was some about putting his thoughts and feelings down into words that seemed appropriate.

A few minutes went by, and still he waited. He practiced some controlled breathing as his heart continued to hammer away and nerves jetted through his body, the kind of nerves that came with opening a vault of secrets, leaving one vulnerable and exposed…he hoped Harry understood what he had been trying to say...

His phone chimed. Opening his eyes, he looked down to read Harry’s response.

*I know it’s late, and everything...but...I’d really like to see you. Would it be ok if we broke our rules to meet in the Room of Requirement?* 

Draco was out of bed before he finished the first sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliff hanger, though hopefully the chapter summary helps! ;)


	18. When Souls Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets Harry in the Room of Requirement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been tweaking this for a while, and decided if I didn't post it I would just keep tweaking forever.
> 
> I almost feel like I am intruding on their privacy with this chapter, but I wanted to share, the goal being to show their vulnerabilities as they explore and discover how to express their deepest emotions with their bodies, and I am speaking as the demi sexual that I am here:) . My hope is that I have brought a steamy yet emotional, respectful launching point for the next level of their relationship. I am not 100% confident that I have met that goal...this isn't my area of expertise...but hopefully you find enjoyment and satisfaction with it. 
> 
> As always, comments are welcome. Thank you for reading!

The seventh floor was full of silence...not a sound or shadow, and no evidence anyone had been there since his last visit save for the lack of rubble and the repaired tapestry that hung on the far wall. Draco was thankful as he tightened his robe around him after apparating. He hadn’t even thought to change into clothes, which was foolish of him and perhaps a bit presumptuous. 

Harry had said he would be waiting for him. Maybe he simply wanted to talk about why they had to stop flirting in public...maybe his last text had scared him, and he wanted to explain in person how they couldn’t get that serious now that they were working together on the project? He almost withdrew his wand to change his robe to proper clothing...almost.

He passed three times in front of the wall and simply asked for the room Harry Potter was in. The doors appeared, and with nervous butterflies he pushed slowly through, letting them close behind him. Harry was standing in the middle of the room facing away from the doors. He was wearing a long dressing gown, with pajama pants hanging below the hem. Draco felt his heart begin to thump against his chest.

The room was bathed in warm light from sconces around the walls, and a very large couch sat to the left, it’s width large enough for two people, pillows in the corners. The wall opposite was filled with a stone fireplace where a fire burned, casting warm, flickering shadows throughout the room, and a small table held a bottle of wine with two goblets. 

Harry’s shoulders moved up and back as he sensed his presence, and they rose and fell with increased breathing. He slowly turned then, his eyes falling on him, taking in his robe, then locking eyes with his own, the green emeralds behind the glasses shiny with tears.

Draco felt himself start to tremble, and he knew this would be different from their last time in the room. Their time together before had been a spontaneous rush of emotions and hormones brought on by the situation, no less genuine, but...this time they were here with purpose, with planned-ahead choice, with...with his own declaration of how deep his feelings ran. He couldn’t totally explain it, and perhaps he didn’t need to, but this felt...different. His own eyes filled with moisture.

Harry stepped forward, then stopped. 

“Draco, I…”

Draco stood, waiting, a ball in his chest, the flicker in Harry’s eyes telling him he had something to say.

“I did mean it when I said I wanted to give you a chance to...to establish yourself without...for us to lay low so that you could…”

He seemed to struggle with the words, taking a deep breath between each phrase, so Draco nodded to reassure him, his insides clenching. 

“But, to be honest, I also was just...scared.” A corner of his mouth pulled up briefly, and Draco’s breathing sped up. “The only other people I have kissed are Cho and Ginny. It was nice. With Ginny there was an expectation there, but...after the war, it...didn’t progress like I thought it should. And. You were never far from my thoughts. It was very confusing. I told myself I wanted to help you, and kept telling myself my feelings were all about that, even though I knew it was more. Dumbledore’s picture. The tattoo. The...the shirt. But it wasn’t until you came to see me in my flat that I really understood...and…”

Draco’s heart squeezed as Harry spoke, and waited patiently as he paused, the firelight reflecting the blush of his cheeks.

“When we shared that kiss, it wasn’t like kissing the others...not at all. And it wasn’t just that, it was, well, everything. When I got your owl about going to the room of requirement, I couldn’t not be there, I had to be there to support you if you needed it. And...well…”

He smiled then, his eyes full of something that pulled through Draco’s heart and belly.

“Afterwards I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it scared me because I had to acknowledge something about myself. I haven’t even spoken to Ron or Hermione about this revelation because it’s like...everyone is waiting for Ginny and I to get together. Like...normal people do.” His eyes shone with more tears, and he pressed his hands to them with a deep sigh, pulling them down his face. “So part of me just needed to...process everything, to make sure...and while I wanted to be with you again, I was afraid it would...but the thing is, what I was feeling was more than just...I felt everything deeply, and that scared me the most.”

Draco continued to shake, not moving, just trying to breathe as he waited, knowing Harry was not finished.

“Then today…”. He took a step forward, and his voice crackled with more emotion. “Jack and Steve bravely coming out, their kiss at the pub, and everyone congratulating them, and their...and it hit me that I was being...but I knew what I wanted, and…I wasn’t sure if you…”. He covered his face with his hands again. “Oh Merlin, I am mucking this all up…”

Draco stepped towards him then, stopping a couple feet away, pushing past a lump in his throat. “No…you aren’t,” his words sounding wet, “Harry, you aren’t.”

Harry lowered his hands, eyes still shining, then reached a hand towards him. Draco took it, and hoped every feeling he had was expressing itself in his face. Harry closed the gap between them, taking his other hand.

Draco squeezed his hands, then lifted one of his own to brush Harry’s fringe aside, letting his fingers trace down the side of his face. 

Harry met his eyes and traveled down his face and back up again. “Have you ever...are you…”

“I’ve known about myself for quite some time.” Draco answered softly, knowing what Harry was asking. “I never liked girls, Harry. But there was a certain someone who was always able to get under my skin. And no, I’ve never.” 

He raised a hand to cup Harry’s cheek.

“When you sent me that text...Draco…you described everything I was feeling.” And then he raised a hand to cover Draco’s. “But words failed me, so I had to…”

Draco felt his breath speed up and waited, feeling it important that Harry make the first move. Harry licked his lips and leaned to him, closing his eyes, and brushed their lips together, moving his as if tasting something very good, their warm, soft exploring sending shivers of delight through Draco as he responded in kind, moving his hand from Harry's cheek to rest on his neck. He opened his lips slightly, and felt Harry’s tongue run across them, then opened further, his own tongue brushing Harry’s. He wanted to take this slow, to show Harry everything he was feeling, but his need to touch him was overwhelming. 

Harry broke away and spoke with a raspy edge, “I want to be with you,” his mouth suddenly on the tender skin under his jaw.

Draco reached with a hand inside Harry’s robe placing it gently on the side of his chest, moving it softly up to his shoulder, and Harry’s mouth found his again, deepening the kiss in response. Their tongues rolled as they tasted one another, exploring each other’s mouths, and as Draco’s passion grew, he sucked on Harry’s tongue, pulling him closer, and Harry’s mouth opened for more, lifting his glasses to the top of his head. Draco felt a hand reach inside his robe and rest across his chest, moving behind his lower back, then he pulled his mouth away to breath, and they stared at each other, the desire in Harry’s eyes doing all sorts of crazy things to his body.

Harry’s lips reach for his neck again, the warm, moist pressure moving across his skin with the tease of his tongue, and a wave of desire rolled through him, a little noise escaping his lips. He pulled Harry closer to him, their bodies flush. Harry melted into him, then pulled his face away again and they locked eyes, and Draco relished the feel of his skin against his chest, the rise and fall of his muscles, the brush of his breath against his own.

Their lips met again, their rising passion driving them this time, moving as if trying to convey unspoken words, and Draco’s emotions from the day welled up in him and almost choked him as he ran his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip and moved his hands up and down his back and rested on his hips, Harry responding in kind, their kiss almost frantic, the feel of Harry’s tongue moving against his own sending the waves crashing through him, and he pressed their bodies tighter together, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

Harry pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked into his eyes. “I ...I want to take this slow, Draco… I want to...I want you to know this much more than…”

Draco knew that Harry felt what he had been feeling...that this was different. He moved his hands up to Harry’s face and then to his hair, letting his fingers play through it, and rested his forehead on Harry’s. 

“I know,” he whispered. “And...it was always you, Harry.”

He felt Harry slip a hand under the collar of his robe, pulling it down to expose his shoulder, then placed a soft kiss to the top of it, letting his tongue move in small circles. His lips and tongue moved to the delicate skin above his collar bone, his tongue exploring for a moment before moving down his chest as he slipped his robe off. Draco dug his fingers through the nape of Harry’s hair, taking in every sensation as Harry’s tongue and lips moved down his abdomen, stopping at the hem of his briefs and moving back up, exploring as he went. 

Their lips met again, and Draco reached for Harry’s robe, slipping it off. They breathed on one another a moment before Draco began his own exploration of Harry’s body, taking his time, wanting to taste every inch of him. His tongue found a nipple, and he kissed it tenderly with his lips, sucking gently, rolling his tongue over it, and Harry moaned with pleasure, his hands and fingers digging into his back, and as Draco kissed his way down his abdomen, Harry’s hips moved slightly, his growing desire pressing his pajama bottoms into his neck.

Draco glanced up briefly to see Harry watching him, glasses back on, his red, kiss-swollen lips parted, chest heaving, and it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Then he kissed his way back up and Harry lifted his head to meet him and they breathed on each other, Harry’s eyes full of desire, need, and questioning. 

Draco moved his lips to his ear and whispered, “I’d like to kiss you..everywhere...is that ok?” Harry, his breath puffing in little gasps, trembling, nodded his head against his cheek. 

Draco mouthed against his neck, then moved below his Adam's apple and on down, lifting his lips to different spots along the way, tasting as he went, feeling Harry shudder against him. He moved his fingers to the hem of his pajama bottoms, pulling on it slightly, and when Harry gave another little moan, he kissed the small hairs below his hip line, then tugged at his pajama trousers, slowly pulling the garment down, letting his fingers trail down the side of his buttocks and legs, Harry’s full length popping free, and felt his own breath catch as he took a moment to admire it, his own growing need pushing against his boxers. 

He placed swollen lips at the base of Harry’s fullness and let his tongue swirl against the skin, closing his eyes at the wonder and the taste and the feel of it, Harry’s fingers moving through his hair. He trailed his lips an inch, and then another, letting his tongue explore, and Harry’s fingers dug into his scalp, emitting a “Ohh” above him. Draco feathered a hand around to cup a buttock as he continued his way down, relishing in the sounds that escaped Harry’s mouth, and then let his lips encapsulate head, his tongue exploring the slit.

“Draco...oh Merlin…” Harry’s hands pulled at him desperately, then Draco let his lips pull off, and stood back up, not wanting to miss a moment, wanting to...Harry opened his eyes and stepped into him, panting heavily, green irises and pupils full of craving. Draco inhaled sharply, and as Harry’s hands slipped under his boxers and slid them down, pressing his hips into him, he gasped as both their cocks rubbed against each other. Heat flamed through him, his hands pressing into Harry’s buttocks as they both ground their hips together seeking friction, their breathing ragged.

Draco paused and pressed Harry back until they reached the couch, both of them kicking away their garments, until they were both lying naked against one another, both of them aroused and needing the other, but not wanting the teasing to end. Harry rolled on top of him, pressing their bodies together.

Draco wanted to relish the feel of Harry’s skin and body against him, to feel his need for him pressing against his own, to marvel in the fact he wanted him just as badly as he needed him. 

Harry reached to cradle his face as he looked down at him, eyes full of longing and unbridled desire. “I’ve never wanted anything as much...to be with you like this…” he whispered hoarsely with wonder, and Draco throbbed painfully at his look, his voice, his words. “And it’s not just because of a foot fetish.” He grinned, and they both chuckled. Then he continued more seriously. “Everything you said in your text...everything...you said it so perfectly. I…”

Then he began to kiss Draco down the length of his body, letting his tongue explore once more, hovering over his nipples, making his way down his abdomen, and Draco could only writhe with desire and anticipation. As Harry began to mouth his lips down his throbbing shaft, tentatively exploring, he groaned in pleasure. 

“Harry,” he breathed, “You are beautiful, you know that, don’t you?” In answer, Harry’s lips circled his head, tongue twirling, and he gave a little cry. “Ahhh” he breathed, and couldn’t stop his hips from rising slightly in need. “Harry..”

This seemed to inspire Harry, for he felt his hands caress his thighs and his mouth moved up to take more of him in,, tongue moving along his slit, and Draco placed his hands in Harry’s hair, grinning slightly when he bumped the glasses that were miraculously still there. Then he shifted his hips up, gasping “Oh...Merlin,” giving an extended moan of pleasure. 

He then felt Harry slip off, and move up to kiss him on the mouth, both of their erections rubbing together in need, and Draco reached for Harry’s arms and turned him over, pressing their hips together but raising his upper body, upper arms on the couch, so he could look at his face. They were both sweaty now, panting at each other, staring into each other’s eyes, and Draco was sure the desire and frank lust he saw in Harry’s mirrored his own. 

“Harry,” He whispered desperately, and as he raised Harry’s arms on the couch and laced their fingers, maintaining eye contact, Harry moaned and pressed his hips up to grind against him. Draco rocked his hips, pressing their cocks together, watching Harry’s eyes, the response in them pulling him over the edge. He began to grind against him in ernst, and felt himself tremble with need, Harry’s hips rising and moving with his with an equal growing need for friction, and he closed his eyes with a desperate moan, pulling his arms away to clasp at Draco’s back with his hands, digging into him with his fingers.

“Harry...oh Merlin Harry…”. He ground and circled his hips to keep their cocks rubbing together, and they both sped up, panting, their sweat creating a path for their chests to move easily against each other. Harry moving suddenly faster underneath him with a need for more friction, his peaking arousal apparent as they rutted faster and faster overwhelmed him, and he felt the bunching up of his lower abdomen and groin. Harry’s need of him was going to bring on his climax. He felt Harry’s mouth against his neck, and then his teeth, his back arching as he cried loudly with his own approaching climax, and Draco was gone, speeding up his rutting in a vibrating pulse with a loud passionate moan as he came, calling Harry’s name, his cum shooting up to mix with Harry’s. “Harry,” he cried again as he finished his climax in trembling pleasure. 

He relaxed against Harry as they both came down, their breathing gradually slowing, and they lay there together, Harry’s arms around his back. He enjoyed the feel of the naked bodies against each other, still sticky with cum, trembling with the amazement and joy of the moment. He finally called his wand to him and cast cleaning spells on them. Harry put his hand on his head, then reached back to dig in the couch to find his glasses. “So I can see you,” He smiled.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Eventually he felt Harry’s lips on his cheek. “I still want you,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“Harry, I will never not want you.”

The truth of the statement scared him a little, but he knew it was true nevertheless, and felt Harry arms squeeze around him. 

The fire continued to burn heartily, casting its glow and warmth around them, shadows flickering across the room, and neither of them felt the need to get their robes. Harry’s fingers feathered softly across his back, sending shivers of delight over his skin. 

“I could just stay here the rest of the night,” Draco finally said. “Mother’s owl would never find us.” They both chuckled.

Harry looked to the table. “I suppose we could drink this wine. We wouldn’t want to offend the hospitality of the room.”

Draco traces Harry’s lips with his fingers. “These lips are the only wine I need.” Harry smiled and they both giggled. “See,” Draco continued, “You’ve turned me into a sappy poet.”

They both eventually sat up, and reached for their robes, loosely pulling them on, and Harry opened the bottle of wine, filling each of the goblets. They sat close together as they clicked them in a toast, smiling at each other, still enjoying the afterglow.

“So,” Harry cleared his throat. “You’ve been doing muggle studies, and history of gay rights.”

“Yes, I’m happy to say some progress was made, though there is still a long way to go...obviously.”

Harry looked down and ran a ringer around the rim of his goblet, a gesture Draco was beginning to associate with Harry being nervous about something he was going to say. 

“Have you...what else have you studied on the subject…?”

Draco looked at him curiously, and a flush creeped up Harry’s face. He glanced at Draco sheepishly and took a healthy gulp of his wine.

“Oh….” Draco slowly grinned and felt his own face heat up. “You mean…” 

Harry looked back into his wine goblet, blushing furiously. “I mean, I have heard things, of course, but...not that we need to...I’m just curious, and…”

The very topic of discussion and Harry’s blush was causing a stirring in Draco again. He placed a hand on Harry’s bare thigh and slowly caressed it in circles, making his way up and stopping just short of his groin, letting it rest there, Harry taking in a short breath of air. He raised his eyes to Draco’s, and they were shimmering with renewed desire. Draco moved his hand up and down Harry’s leg, stopping short of his cock, which was beginning to twitch.

Harry moved his face close to Draco’s, lips parted.

“I’d like to just study you, Harry.” He swallowed hard. “If that is ok.” 

Harry nodded, and Draco took both their goblets and set them on the table, then stood, lifting Harry up with him and drawing him close, skin against skin. He rested his hands on Harry’s hips, then slowly moved them to rest over his buttocks giving them a gentle squeeze. Harry moaned into his neck, and he felt blood rush to his own cock. Taking that as a signal to proceed, he moved a hand between Harry’s cheeks and pressed down, letting his long fingers press into his perineum near his anus, keeping a gentle steady pressure.

Harry shivered in his arms and Draco felt him harden against him. “How does that feel, Harry?” He whispered coarsely in his ear. 

“Don’t stop,” Harry spoke into his neck, then sucked on his tender skin, shifting his hips forward.

Massaging a buttock with one hand, he moved his fingers of the other, maintaining pressure on his perineum, until they reached his anal opening. Applying slight pressure, he ran his fingers up and down over it, and as Harry hummed in his ear, he pressed one finger against the opening. 

“Hmm….why does that feel so good...agh.”

Draco massaged him again, pressing their hips together, both of their cocks hard now, their chests moving against each other as they breathed. He moved his hands up Harry’s back and they made eye contact, foreheads together, Harry’s eyes full of almost surprised desire. Harry moved his hands down Draco’s back, a question in his eyes, Draco nodding. 

Then Harry had his hands on his own backside, massaging as he went, and when his hands rubbed between them and along his own anal area, desire shot through him and he arched his back, and placed a hand on his own cock, and his mouth on Harry’s in a kiss. “Oh, he breathed, “That is good, Harry.” 

They shuddered against each other a moment, then they both hand their hands on each other’s waists, panting into each other. 

“So...do you want to keep...studying?” Draco spoke against Harry’s lips. “Yes,” he whispered quickly in answer.”

“I think we need something called lube.” And as soon as he said it, a tube appeared in his hand. “The room is so accommodating.” He squeezed a generous amount in his hand, then moved forward again, using his free hand to slip Harry’s obe off. As he pressed Harry to him, he felt his own robe being pushed off as well, and they stood naked against one another, Draco slipping his lubed hand to Harry’s anal opening, spreading the lube and gently massaging until Harry moaned into his ear. Then he tentatively pressed a finger into the opening, feeling himself blush, and gently pressed up to his second knuckle.

He felt Harry tense just a bit and he paused, waiting until he felt him relax. “Are you ok?” He whispered, as he used his free hand to continue caressing him. 

“Yes…” 

Draco didn’t push his finger further, but started to carefully move it applying gentle pressure, and then Harry’s mouth was on his neck, his teeth nibbling at him. He then slowly moved his finger to the third knuckle and began to massage it, Harry biting down on his neck, grinding against him. “Hmmm” 

Draco felt hot desire stab through him and knew he was already “this” close to climaxing, and the way Harry shuddered against him told him he was close as well. “Harry..” he breathed raggedly, and not being able to stop himself, knelt down and took Harry in his mouth, his other hand wrapping around himself. He tasted pre cum, and as he sucked, felt Harry on the back of his throat. He ignored the temptation to gag, Harry’s gasps of pleasure outweighing anything else, and as Harry’s climax spilled in and around his mouth, he quickly jerked himself to his own climax with a loud moan, and slipped off Harry to cry his name..

As they both came down, he wiped his mouth on his arm and stood to hold him close, their arms wrapping around each other.

“Draco,” Harry panted in his ear. “Merlin, that was…”

“Harry,” he panted back, holding him tighter, “yes it was.”

They stood that way for a few moments, but finally Harry moved away saying, “cleaning spell,” and went to get his wand rather than using Accio. Draco watched him, admiring his body, and couldn’t help staring at his backside, still unbelieving he had…and that eventually they would…this couldn’t be happening to him. He closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, Harry was completing cleaning charms on them, nothing on his person but the wand in his hand. He moved towards him and took his free hand leading him to the couch, and they scooped their robes, Harry replacing his wand. “You are beautiful, Harry,” Draco told him, his voice catching.

They sat and put their robes loosely around them. Harry lifted his face to him, and adjusted his glasses. “You are,” he answered, the light of the fire reflecting on his cheeks, his eyes full of affection and wonderment. “Thank you...I…” A blush rose in his cheeks to join the firelight, and Draco couldn’t speak. “I’m looking forward to our next...study session.”

Draco pulled him into his chest, and Harry rested his head there under his chin, Draco’s arm around him. “Little do people know, classes are still going on at Hogwarts, hm?” He felt Harry chuckle, the sound vibrating against him.

“Yes,” Harry said, “The eighth-year curriculum is proving to be the most interesting yet.”

“Mhmm,” Draco hummed, “And quite possibly the most magical.”

Harry lifted his head to smile at him, and he grinned back, eyebrows raised, and his chest filled with warmth as green eyes twinkled back at him. Then a thoughtful look crossed Harry’s face.

“You know, Draco, you never did tell me about your last time here...something about a patronus...”

“Oh yes…” Harry settled back down to listen. “I had found the...the cupboard. And it was strange, it was like a dementor was there, but it wasn’t. And I had this battle with it, and my old self, and when I said that if I had to do it over again I wouldn’t, something changed.”

Harry put a hand over Draco’s, and they intertwined fingers. 

“There was a strength that rose in me, and I felt so free of the darkness. And...then the door opened, and the patronus of a bird flew out, and it was a Phoenix. I was shocked because I hadn’t called it, but it appeared all the same and it bowed to me. And then I found a piece of paper in the cupboard that said ‘redeemed’ on it, and the patronus flew away.”

“Wow...that’s...that is Dumbledore’s patronus.” 

“Yes….is it possible Dumbledore was there somehow to help me?” He thought about the judge, and about Harry’s story of the picture, and what Harry had said in his apartment.

“The most powerful weapon.” Harry spoke softly as if reading his mind, then lifted his face to him again. “That sounds about right...with Dumbledore it seems all things are possible.”

“Right now, Harry, I certainly believe it,” he answered with feeling, kissing him chastely on the mouth.


	19. Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry settles things with Ginny at the burro, and Draco and Harry have a very good Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m moving quickly now. Thanks for reading.

December 25

Christmas Day at the Weasley’s had always been a wonderful, welcome affair, and this year was the same in many ways but different in others. Harry’s adopted family gathered amidst the love, the presents...Harry sporting another sweater lovingly made by Molly…the feast, also made by Molly and a generous supply of Butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and even some spiked eggnog. But while it was the first one without the threat of Voldemort, it was also the first one without Fred. His absence was felt among the celebrating in a palpable way. 

There was also an unspoken question about Ginny. Surely by now, Harry had expected everyone to understand that their relationship was one of friendship nothing more. But he hadn’t missed the subtle looks from Molly, and the fact she had made seating arrangements at dinner with him next to Ginny. Had Ginny not explained things to them? Was she perhaps hoping things would change? Then he flushed to himself at his presumption. But...just in case...he felt it wasn’t fair to her or Molly, or himself, to keep any hopes alive. How was he going to settle things without being offensive? He swallowed and looked into his mug of butterbeer.

With cleaning up finished and the late afternoon moving towards evening, some said their goodbyes with hugs and promises to keep in touch. Arthur, Molly, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and George all settled into the living room for a traditional, relaxing, spiked eggnog visit, with tarts on dessert plates. Ginny found the chair in the corner, and Harry joined Ron, Hermione, and George on the couch. Arthur raised his mug next to Molly on the loveseat.

“To Fred, who we all miss dearly this season and always.” They all raised their mugs and repeated “to Fred.” After a moment of silent respect, Molly raised her mug. “To friends and loved ones,” as she looked among them, Harry shifting uncomfortably as her gaze lingered on him with a little smile.

“Well,” Ron cleared his throat, “I’d like to make a toast to all the workers on the restoration project, as we completed the prep work on London Bridge last week!” They all raised their glasses, Arthur with a ‘hear hear’ and the golden trio clinked mugs.

George leaned over to look at them. “Is it really true Malfoy was on the project too? It was in the “Daily Prophet.” 

They all nodded. “He was there as part of his probation,” Harry answered, “but...he’s been genuinely contributing.”

George stared at him. “What was THAT like?”

Hermione spoke up before Harry could respond. “When both groups came together last week as the prep work was finishing, he was right there working with everyone, and I have to say, he was surprisingly pleasant and polite.” Ron gave a reluctant nod in aquicence.

“Malfoy?” George looked doubtful. “Polite?”

Harry turned to him. “I’ve been working with his group the last several weeks, and he has done very well.” He looked to Arthur. “Isn’t that right?”

Arthur nodded. “ He has surprised me.” He tilted his head and scratched behind an ear. “He’s even made friends with some of the muggles, and spoke as a witness for one in the muggle courts. The probation office he is working with is a very decent fellow.” 

“Huh...will wonders never cease!” George responded a bit doubtfully. “Hard to believe.”

“He’s not the same person he was before the war,” Harry spoke into his eggnog, trying to keep his tone even and casual, yet unable to keep quiet. “I think he’s really making an effort.” 

The air seemed to shift slightly as if everyone’s thoughts on how unusual his words sounded rolled together through the room. George opened his mouth, then thought better of it and sat back with a nod. 

“I agree, Harry,” Hermione sat up straighter, giving him an encouraging smile, which Harry returned with appreciation. Ginny caught his eye. 

She was watching him over her cup of butterbeer, legs pulled up on the chair, her expression unreadable. She held his look for a minute, then blinked away.

“Are you aware, Harry,” Arthur asked, “That Draco’s testimony moved the courts to rule against Carl, and he has been sentenced for his hate crime?”

Harry startled and leaned forward. “No, Draco didn’t….I hadn’t heard that! That’s great news!” He began mentally calculating how soon he could slip away to call Draco. They had plans to meet that evening, but perhaps they could bump the time up.

Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously.

“They only just wrapped it up, so it’s okay to talk about now.” Arthur said, giving Harry a wink.

“HATE crime?” Ron asked him, scrunched. “Malfoy testified against a hate crime?”

“The crime was committed against the man I replaced on the chain work, Steve. His accident was not an accident, but done on purpose by Carl, the guy who used to run the bulldozer. You met Jack. He and Steve are...together.” He felt all eyes focus on him then. “We didn’t know it at the time, but Carl said hateful things about them to Draco the day the accident happened, but no one else heard him. A couple weeks later, we were at a pub after working and Steve and Jack came by, and...we were kind of all celebrating.” A faint flush brushed his cheeks. “Would you believe Carl showed up and drunkenly ran his mouth, providing further incentive and witnesses for Steve to prosecute?”

Ron stared at him, mouth open. “All that happened, mate, and we didn’t know?”

“We couldn’t talk about it while it was in the courts.”

“Harry,” Hermione began sympathetically, “That’s terrible that happened to this Steve. And...Malfoy….helped them. I mean...what hateful things did Carl say to him?”

“Draco was talking to Steve and Jack in the lunch line. When they left to sit down, Carl called them...called them a slur that meant...two men together. And he told Draco to stay away from them.”

“When you say together…” Ron asked him slowly, “You mean... together together?”

Harry looked at him pointedly. “Yes.” 

George answered with a bitter edge, “And you’re telling us Malfoy defended them...didn’t join in with his own prejudiced taunts…”

Harry felt his face harden. He couldn’t help it. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, George. Not only that, he testified in a muggle court! He…”

Arthur raised a hand. “Boys…George...”

“Well I’m sorry father, Malfoy was part of a group responsible for the death of my brother, excuse me if I don’t join the ‘Malfoy is a good guy’ party!” He stood and apparated on the spot. Soon after, the slamming of his bedroom door could be heard.

Harry sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. Hermione put an arm around his shoulders.

“Well…” Molly began, “Sorry, Harry. I’m sure he will calm down, but...I understand where he’s coming from.”

“I know,” Harry spoke into his hands, his voice growing louder with every sentence. “But you haven’t worked with him for weeks like I have, seen how he is with muggles, with everyone! He has been studying them, and even did extra work on his own. He has been studying muggle gay culture...and it is NO surprise to me he would defend them. No surprise at ALL!”

There was silence in the room save for the ticking of the clock, and finally Harry pulled his hands down and rubbed them on the jeans. Arthur was looking at the floor with a sympathetic pull of his lips, Molly blinking at him trying to understand, Ron and Hermione glancing at him with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Ginny stared at him again with an unreadable expression, then she stood and began to gather the dessert plates.

“I think I shall take these and wash them the muggle way...since we are talking about muggles.” She looked pointedly at Harry with a raised eyebrow as she passed him.

“I’ll help you.” He said, standing and taking Ron and Hermione’s plates. Molly watched them as they moved to the kitchen.

“I’ll wash,” Ginny stated simply, running the water and adding soap. Harry took a towel from the drawer and they quietly watched the bubbles rise, the tension between them building.

They washed, rinsed, and dried the dishes insilence, until finally Ginny spoke softly as she rinsed the last dish.

“Is he why we never made it?”

Harry took the plate and met her eyes, then studied the intricate pattern of flowers on the rim as he began to slowly dry it. “Who?” He whispered. Ginny turned to face him.

“Draco.”

He looked at her and swallowed, his cheeks heating, his eyes misting. 

“You know your secrets will be safe with me Harry Potter,” She whispered.

She had a right to know. He nodded slowly and blinked tears away. “Yes,” he whispered. She reached a hand to squeeze his arm, and she blinked tears of her own. “In that case, good luck to you Harry.” Then, leaning and kissing his cheek, she left the kitchen, said her good nights, and went upstairs. 

He stood for a moment collecting himself, then walked into the living room. Ron and Hermione were saying their goodbyes by the hearth.

“Harry, we were just getting ready to go home. Do you want to Floo with us?” Hermione asked as she took his hands. He smiled. “No, you two go ahead. I’ll be along later.” He turned to Ron. “We’ll catch up.”

“Ok, mate.” They waved, stepped into the hearth, and flooed away.

Harry hesitated then turned to Arthur and Molly. “I’ll be going too.”

“Oh…” Molly said. All three studied each other, then Arthur and Molly glanced at each other. Molly moved slowly to hug him with a little sob. “Oh Harry. You and Ginny aren’t going to happen, are you?”

He hugged her back and spoke in her ear. “No Molly. But I love her as I love all of you. You will always be my family.”

She pulled back and spoke fiercely with tears. “And you will always be part of ours.” He turned to shake Arthur’s hand, but was pulled into a hug. “Merry Christmas, Harry. I will see you on another project soon after the holidays.” 

“Definitely.” 

He smiled at them. “Merry Christmas to you both.” He reached for his robe and wand, and the package of gifts. “I’m going to just apparate from the stoop,” He said, going for the door, returning their goodbye waves, then slipping through to the early evening light.

*

Christmas at the manor was a very quiet affair. Especially since Lucius was not there. He, his mother, and their house elf, had dinner together and exchanged gifts, with quiet music piped in the sitting room. They had gotten a small tree and decorated it with magical lights and gold balls, and they sat sipping spiced wine as the evening shadows filtered through the windows.

Andromeda had made a surprise visit, which while slightly awkward initially, turned out to be a pleasant interlude in a day otherwise marked by an underlying melancholy.

As they sipped their wine, Draco glanced up at the timekeeper, and battled a growing guilt at the thought of leaving his mother to meet Harry. Narcissa watched him with a knowing eye. He felt his mobile buzz in the pocket of his robe.

He carefully pulled it out and flipped to read the text.

*Draco, I know it’s early, and take your time with your mother, but just wanted you to know I am here at ROR whenever you're ready.*

He slipped the phone quietly back in his pocket and swirled his wine, avoiding his mother’s stare. He heard her breathe out a small sigh.

“When your father and I started...dating...we wanted to be together. I understand these things, Draco.”

Draco felt his cheeks heat.

“And…” she continued quietly, “I want you to be happy. You’ve been doing well with your probation. Even the Daily Prophet has been reporting on your work with the project.”

He looked at her then, and she stared back with a small smile.

“I know you’ve been meeting with Potter these past months. And you want to meet with him now.”

“Mother…”

“Go, Draco. I will be fine.”

He looked at her, feeling surprised pleasure and a bit of doubt.

“If you choose to sit here with me all evening, I will be most displeased.”

He swallowed the lump of gratefulness and love he felt for her in that moment, then rose to kiss her cheek.

*

When Draco stepped through the doors of “their room,” Harry was lounging on the couch in nothing but his open robe. The sight caused Draco’s breath to hitch and felt desire quickly move through him. Harry sat up and stared with an intensity and longing, already hard, and Draco felt himself responding in kind.

As Draco removed his robe, eyes on Harry’s, Harry stood and moved to him, hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “Merry Christmas Draco,” he said breathlessly.

“Merry Christmas,” Draco swallowed, “So...um, how was it at the burrow?” 

“Let’s talk later.” Harry pressed his lips to his in a slow kiss, moving his tongue across them as he unbuttoned his shirt and reached for his belt. Draco placed his hands on Harry’s hips pulling him closer and opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, his need suddenly pressing against his trousers. Harry pulled away to whisper in his ear. “I just really need you now.”

“So,” Draco whispered back, “Are we doing the Hogwarts’s study version or the Uni?”

“We are doing the PHD graduate study version.” Harry answered as he pulled down his trousers, and Draco kicked them away, his fully-hardened cock springing free, and Harry led him to the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I didn’t get into detail about their Christmas romp. But I didn’t feel I could do it justice. Things are coming to a close with this fic, and I hope you have enjoyed it. One more chapter and an epilogue!


	20. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry plan to carefully navigate things after the judge’s ruling, but you know what they say!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed where this took me, and hope you do too! Thanks for reading, and as always, kudos and comments are much appreciated!

“Are you ready?”

Clarence sat relaxed with his hands folded resting his arms across his desk. He smiled at Draco encouragingly as he had for the six months of Draco’s probation period, his face confident and expressing a pride that Draco was still not fully used to.

Draco inhaled and exhaled in the familiar deep breathing he had come accustomed to, wiping his hands on his dark grey trousers. His mind went back through all the discussions they had had over the months about his book assignments, the progress he had made starting with London Bridge, the muggle friendships he had made, the victory for Steve he had played a part in, the hard-won respect he had earned from Arthur Weasley and the rest of the Wizarding higher ups on the board of the projects, and even the whispers of those from the Ministry of Magic.

It felt surreal to him. He felt very lucky. There was still a part of him that felt he didn’t deserve it, especially his relationship with Harry Potter...one of the best, bravest people he knew. How was it possible he had taken Draco into his heart...into his bed.

Harry...they had kept their relationship private, with the exception of his mother...and Ginny Weasley. Even Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had effectively been kept out of the loop, though Harry had finally talked to them about his sexuality. Baby steps, Harry had said. Today that would change. Assuming he would be fully exonerated as Clarence assured him he would be. With his freedom, he and Harry would be free to to be open about their relationship. 

“I believe so,” Draco finally answered. “And if they fully acquit me...I will truly be free to pursue whatever future I desire?”

“As long as it is within the law, then yes, that is what the the nature of your probation stated.”

“Does that include…” Draco began, then hesitated, not sure if now was the proper time to talk about…”

“Go on, Draco,” Clarence encouraged. 

“Um...Harry and I, we…”

Clarence just smiled knowingly and Draco felt his cheeks heat. “We…”

“You and Harry are close.” Clarence said for him.

“Yes.”

“You want to know if and when you can share that.”

Draco stared at him and wondered how much he suspected already. “Yes,” he said again.

“I think you have been wise to keep a low profile, but after today it is in your right to be whoever and with whomever you wish to be. I have every confidence you will both continue to use wisdom in how your...relationship is revealed.”

“So...we have tried to be very discreet...are we...do you…”

“The nature of our relationship, Draco, affords you some freedom you may not feel with others. The way you have talked about him in our discussions...and my observations based on those discussions...have not been lost on me. But I doubt anyone else on the projects would suspect such a relationship.” He smiled again. “Don’t worry that anything you have done has impeded the results of today’s hearing. There has been zero gossip. If you desire to be open about it, I would probably wait a bit of time, and let it happen organically. Let yourselves be seen together as friends, for example. And go from there.”

Draco nodded, his cheeks still warm. “That is kind of how we have talked about it. We want to have private conversations with those close to us. But then we would like to come out publicly...we had planned a celebration of sorts with people from the projects, and...friends...within the month. Is that ok? Would that be too soon?”

“Not at all. Legally you are free. And nobody can come back and accuse you or Harry of ...anything. Like I said, before that celebration, I would recommend being seen out together as friends...you might want to prepare for the gossip magazines, but that will happen regardless of what you do. It is totally up to the two of you.”

Draco nodded and stared at his fingers. “That sounds like a wise plan. Is there...any chance that things will not go as we hope today?”

“I don’t know how you could have handled yourself any better than you have, Draco. I am very proud of you. Just keep that in mind. And now, it is time.”

*

It felt strange being back in the courtroom, back on the bench with his court appointed lawyer on one side and Clarence on the other. His mother was the only visitor, and she sat on the second bench directly behind Draco. The wizards from the ministry were in the alcove, and the prosecutor and his team sat across the aisle waiting for the judge to appear. 

When the judge finally appeared and they all stood, Draco fought down butterflies and watched him as he scanned the court before landing on himself, a quiet smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye. That had to be a good sign. The judge then sat, motioning them all to be seated, and he collected himself a moment before speaking.

“The court is gathered today to report on the review of the probation of Draco Malfoy and give a final decision as to his full exoneration.”

He paused, and Draco felt his mother squeeze his shoulder.

The judge arranged his glasses as he looked down at the papers in front of him and took a few moments...moments that felt very long to Draco...to read them over.

He then looked at Draco with his smile again. “You have done very well, Mr. Malfoy. Your efforts on the restoration project, your attitude and willingness in all areas, including being a willing witness in the muggle courts against a hate crime, among many other situations, has earned you the respect of not only those sitting in the alcove next to me, but others in your acquaintance as well. I am pleased to report the decision to fully exonerate you was unanimous. You are from this moment forth a free wizard. May you use this freedom wisely.” And with that he banged his gavel. “This court is adjourned.”

Draco exhaled and trembled, turning to his lawyer. “That’s it?” He asked, “I’m free?” His lawyer smiled and reached for his hand which Draco pumped vigorously.

“It’s done. You are a free wizard.”

“Thank you,” Draco breathed, emotions welling in him. “Thank you.” 

They all stood, and he then turned to Clarence, who was smiling widely, then gave him a wink. “Thank you Clarence. Thank you for everything.” When Clarence offered his hand to shake, Draco pulled him into a quick hug. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“I’m very proud of you.” He answered, giving a strong pat on the shoulder.

Blinking unbidden tears, Draco turned then to face his mother, who was standing with her hands clenched against her chest, tears falling on her cheeks. They embraced for a long moment. “I am so very proud of you my darling.” She whispered loudly, and Draco didn’t mind the public term of endearment at all.

As the court emptied, Draco’s lawyer said, “ There will be reporters waiting. I think we all need to leave together, and it would be wise to let me do the talking. I will make a statement to them. Then you can apparate wherever it is you want to go.”

As Draco fingered the mobile in his pocket, his mother said, “Draco and I will apparate home.” Then she turned to Clarence and his lawyer. “Thank you for all you have done for my son”

“It was our pleasure,” Clarence said, speaking for both of them.

“Draco,” Clarence began as they moved to the doors for the last time, “ I want you to know you can still come and talk to me anytime you would like.”

“Thank you, I will. And Clarence...can I still work on the restoration projects?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Of course you may. You have Arthur Weasley’s mobile number.” He winked at him again. “ Just give him a call.”

They were met by a barrage of reporters, cameras clicking, a sea of questions thrown at them. Draco’s lawyer raised his voice.

“Draco Malfoy has been fully exonerated. He is a free wizard!” 

As more questions came, they all prepared to apparate away.

As soon as Draco and his mother appeared in the manor parlor, he pulled out his phone and sent Harry a text.

*I’m free. They fully exonerated me! Call me when you can.*

*

A week later on a Friday night, Draco studied his reflection in the long mirror, turning side to side making sure his light blue button down and grey trousers were wrinkle free, and his hair was coiffed to his satisfaction. He resisted the urge to pinch color into his pale cheeks. He was rather dapper looking, if he did say so himself. Tonight as part of the plan to gradually get people used to the idea of their relationship, he and Harry were going on their first public outing...just going for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron...as friends...but he wanted to look his best. He hadn’t been out anywhere publicly without Clarence since his arrest. 

His mother had, of course, wanted to plan a celebration.

“Mother,” he had told her, “I’m just not ready for a big...a big Slytherin get together. I need time to...to think, and process everything.”

His time had been so regulated, so structured, and now he was free to...to pursue his future. What would he do? Would he go back for his eighth year at Hogwarts when it opened again in the fall? If so, what about after that? What did he want to do?

Whatever his future held, he knew he wanted it to include Harry. They had had their own celebration in the ROR, which had included a long discussion, naked and intertwined on their couch, about their immediate plans on how to gradually come out and possible future plans. Harry thought he might eventually want to go to Auror training. Draco had expressed doubts about what he would be allowed to do despite being exonerated. But the feeling between them was that whatever the future held, they would do it together. 

He had received an owl from Pansy berating him for not contacting her immediately after the court ruling.

*You are an absolute wanker for not contacting me. I expect an invitation for dinner and full report as soon as possible or I will show up on your doorstep.”

He may or may not have owled her back saying he *may be at the Leaky Friday night.*

He licked his lips and reached for his tailored navy jacket, slipping it on and placing his wand up the sleeve. “It starts tonight,” he told the mirror, apparating quickly to the sitting room to say goodbye to his mother before continuing on to the Leaky. 

He paused at the door when an unexpected flutter of nerves welled in his stomach. He and Harry had agreed to come separately, and he wasn’t sure if he was here yet. He knew everyone in the wizard world wouldn’t agree with the judges ruling, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he entered.

There were several groups of patrons filling the booths, and Draco recognized many faces, but he did not see Harry as he scanned the crowd. He decided to make a bee line for the bar and kept his vision straight ahead as he sensed heads turn and conversations pause.

“That’s Malfoy,” he heard someone whisper.

“Yeah, nice a death eater gets to roam free in the leaky after what he did,” came the answer a bit louder.

“I heard he’s friends with muggles now,” someone else said.

“Believe it when you see it.”

Ignore them, Draco repeated the mantra in his head, gaining strength from his experience on the projects. 

He continued to the bar, but then stopped short. Leaning against it in a deep conversation with the bartender was the large, imposing figure of Hagrid. He was so completely unexpected that Draco stood in shock staring until the big man glanced his way. Hagrid froze and they stared at one another until Draco bravely moved forward. 

Hagrid watched him until he stopped a couple feet away. “Hagrid,” he greeted nodding, trembling inside. “I owe you an apology.” He swallowed as Hagrid simply watched him, waiting for him to continue. “I’m sorry for all the grief I caused you at Hogwarts. I know it doesn’t even begin to make up for...for…”. He struggled a moment, trying to maintain control of his features as Hagrid continued to watch him, and he had never seen the man so seemingly speechless. “I...if there is anything I can do…” he continued helplessly, because what would he be able to help Hagrid with?

Hagrid finally turned to face him squarely, his big hands hanging by his side. “Mr Malfoy,” he finally began. “The judge an’ the ministry exonerated ya, and I’m not one ter argue with them.” Then he pointed his finger at him briefly. “All I ask is that ya prove the faith Harry Potter placed in ya.”

“Yes sir,” he nodded, a bit breathless, remembering he had accompanied Harry to the trial. “I can do that, sir, thank you.” 

Hagrid nodded, turned and completed his conversation with the bartender, and left through the back door. Draco watched him leave, thinking he could face anything tonight after the unexpected encounter. 

He heard a round of clapping from a booth and someone shouted, “Draco!”

He turned to see Pansy and Blaise smiling and waving at him, Pansy in a black dress, red lipstick glowing across the room. Draco motioned that he was going to get a drink, and after obtaining a firewhiskey, made his way between the booths to sit with them.

“Come here, you idiot!” Pansy stood to give him a hug, and he allowed her to envelope him in her arms and plant a wet kiss to his cheek. “I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, Pansy,” he pulled away, sure that his cheek now bore a red lip stain. He slid beside her and nodded to Blaise, who was grinning widely.

“I guess it’s a toast to Potter, eh, Draco?” He lifted his tumbler of whatever dark liquid he was drinking.”

“Blaise please, Draco worked hard on those projects to win his freedom. Though of course we are grateful to Potter for testifying,” she added when Draco gave her a look.

“I am very lucky, and thankful to everyone involved.”

“Well, cheers are in order!” Blaise raised his glass higher, “To you and...everyone!” Draco slowly lifted his glass and Pansy joined them, all clinking together. He was still thinking of Hagrid, and the encounter left him feeling more introspective than celebratory. 

“Surely you can muster up more enthusiasm than that, my friend,” Blaise continued, and nodded towards the bar. “Did the mountain oaf bring you down?”

Draco focused on Blaise’s eyes. “Don’t call him that. I was apologizing to him.”

Pansy’s hand rested on his arm and Draco sensed her eyes boring into Blaise. “And you are beautiful for it, Draco. 

“Ok,” Blaise nodded into his drink, raising it to take a sip. “Understood.” 

“So,” Pansy turned to Draco, “How was it working with the probation officer? You seemed to get along well, and he must have been good!”

“He was, Pansy. He was...like the perfect person for the job. He treated me...like he would treat anyone. Like I had already proven myself...like...like…”

Blaise stared hard at him as he spoke, then leaned over the booth and asked. “Who ARE you?”

Draco raised an eyebrow and lifted his whiskey to take a drink. As the dark liquid moved down his throat, a mild commotion rose from the booths near the foyer of the Leaky. Looking over, Draco saw Harry standing at the doors, nodding to a few people while intermittently looking around the room. He was such a sight for sore eyes, Draco couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he stared, warmth settling in his chest.

Harry was dressed simply in jeans and a polo with a wool shirt coat, his glasses perched on his nose below his mop of hair, his green eyes sparkling with anticipation...to Draco he was beautiful. 

Harry’s eyes finally found him, and he stopped in his tracks, lips turning up in a smile. Draco felt his cheeks heat, then lifted a hand in a greeting. He could see Harry’s eyes move over him even across the bar as he lifted a hand in response. He heard Blaise say under his breath, “Oh bloody hell, of course.”

Several faces in the establishment started looking from Harry to Draco as they greeted each other flirtatiously, some with very confused and knowing looks.

Oh well.

“There’s Harry Potter,” Draco said casually, and Blaise rolled his eyes. “I think I should go thank him, don’t you?” 

“Yes, darling, you should,” Pansy said sweetly while kicking Blaise under the table.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, while standing and adjusting his jacket. 

“Yes you will,” Pansy stated emphatically.

As he moved away, Blaise said, “Yeah, later, Romeo.”

Harry maintained eye contact with him as he waited, Draco ignoring the faces and whispers of the patrons whose eyes followed him. He finally stood in front of Harry and extended his hand. “Hello Harry. It’s good to see you.”

Harry smiled and shook his hand, their eyes locked with humor and memories of their last time together. The murmurings that rose around them didn’t register coherently in Draco’s brain; he only heard Harry as he answered, “Hello Draco. It’s good to see you too.”

“I have a lot to thank you for,” he said, and suddenly emotion filled his chest as the truth of it flooded him. 

Harry pressed his lips together as if holding something back, then shook his head slightly. “You have a lot to be proud of. And I’m proud of you.”

Realizing he still held Harry’s hand, he squeezed it in response before gently withdrawing his, and they stood a moment smiling at each other. 

“Do you think we are fooling anyone?” Harry asked.

“Blaise called me Romeo.”

Harry chuckled, then placed an arm on his shoulder and led him to the bar. “Let me buy you a drink, Malfoy.”

“I think I owe you one, Potter.”

*

Rather than find a quiet corner booth, after they got their drinks they decided, without discussing it, to just sit at the bar, each taking a seat. Harry grinned at him over his tumbler of whiskey, and Draco glanced back over his shoulder at the room of gawkers before looking back with a slight smirk. 

They chatted a while, pretending to ignore those around them, and Draco mentioned his owl to Pansy after her possessive rant, hence why she and Blaise were there. 

He took a long drink, and then said, “Guess who else I ran into before you got here? Besides Blaise and Pansy?”

“Who?”

“Hagrid.”

“Hagrid was here?”

Draco nodded. “I was so shocked. I...spoke to him. I wanted him to know...I apologized to him. It felt good.”

“Oh...Draco. How was he?”

“Quiet. But he acknowledged the court’s decision, and only asked that I...honor your faith in me.”

Harry swallowed and gave a rumpled sort of emotional smile. “That’s Hagrid.” 

“That means a lot, you know,” Draco continued. “That you would share that with him.”

“Of course. Bless Hagrid, but I really don’t need faith, you know. Because I can see with my own eyes. I see you.”

They stared at each other a moment, then Draco asked quietly, “And what do you see?”

Harry’s gaze travelled over him and back to his eyes. “Somebody good,” he said in a voice that told him just how good, and desire heated through him. 

Harry’s eyes shifted to the side of his face, his eyes twinkling. Then he looked around the counter of the bar and found a paper napkin. Leaning towards him and reaching up, he whispered mischievously, “I’ve wanted to do this since we sat down. Looks like you’ve already been kissed tonight,” and proceeded to wipe Pansy’s left over lipstick stain from his cheek. Draco felt his face flame, and Harry’s eyes suddenly reflected the passion that must have been in his own. 

“Get a room!” Someone shouted, and Harry turned his head slightly and called out to no one in particular, “Can I get him another drink first?”

Draco slapped a hand to his mouth and then they were both giggling hopelessly over the counter of the bar, the tension momentarily broken, the gasps of those closest to them having no effect on their mood whatsoever. 

“Oh Merlin,” Harry finally sat back and wiped his eyes, “Do you suppose I’ve gone and blown the load too early?”

Draco watched him and laughed again, then smiled into his drink. “I don’t know, but have I told you how good it is having you around?” He looked back up and there were no words to explain how good it felt to laugh and not care what those around him thought. So he just smiled. 

Harry stared back, and squeezed his own knee. “You may have alluded to that a time or two,” he answered quietly, the hand on his knee balling into a fist. And just like that the tension was back. 

Draco felt his breath quicken. He lifted his whiskey and finished it off, licking the residual from his upper lip and set the glass on the counter, shifting in his chair.

“Um…” he heard Harry say, “Did you want another drink, or…”

Draco looked at him, his neck, his eyes, his lips. “Or. Definitely or.”

“I’m paying. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Bossy...I like it.”

*

Draco waited outside pressed against the wall of the Leaky, praying he wouldn’t get accosted by Pansy, but Harry finally came through the door and found him. Draco moved towards him, putting his hands on his waist. 

“Come home with me,” he said quickly before losing his nerve.

“What?” Harry sputtered.

“I love ‘our couch.’ But I want you in my bed. Mom knows about us already, so…”

“I would love that, but...the manor?”

Draco hesitated. Right. Damn. His eyebrows knit together. 

Then Harry suddenly smiled wickedly. “I have a better idea.”

*

Ron and Hermione were cozied up on the couch in the apartment they shared with Harry, happy to be spending a Friday night in alone. They were discussing the latest news of Draco’s court ruling.

“Well, Harry must be happy,” Hermione reflected. “Draco...he really did do well on the projects.”

“Hmm,” Ron answered. “Gotta give him credit, I suppose. I just hope it is all real...you know?”

“Harry seems to....trust him.” 

Ron looked at her. “Time will tell. But I’d really rather not talk about Malfoy when we have the place to ourselves.” He caressed her arm and leaned in for a kiss.

“Do you ever think,” she began curiously, ignoring his advance, “Do you think…Harry and Draco...”

Ron sighed and leaned back against the couch, pinching his eyes. “Think what? No, please don’t say it.”

“I mean...now that we know Harry is bi...some things are clicking into place…”

“I said don’t say it,” Ron moaned nauseatingly.

Hermione shook her head. “Never mind. It’s nothing, I’m being silly. Just sometimes when Harry talks about him, like at Christmas…”

The front door opened, startling them. Harry came through and stood there looking at them, his face a bit flushed with a wide nervous grin.

“Harry, you’re home early,” Ron shifted on the couch, looking at his expression with a raised eyebrow.

“I brought company,” he stated without preamble and moved into the room, followed by a very sheepish Draco Malfoy.

Ron’s mouth gaped open at them and Hermione gave him a rather smug look, then turned to look from one to the other.

“Well well,” she blinked rapidly, “We were just talking about you. Hello, Draco.”

Harry pulled Draco in and closed the door behind them. Draco nodded at her with a shy smile. “Um...hello.” He chanced a look at Ron who was still gaping, and nodded at him. Ron finally closed his mouth and nodded back. “Er….hello, Malfoy?”

“Yes,” Draco answered, then seemed to pull himself up. “I owe you both apologies...for everything.” He looked at Hermione. “I’m sorry I called you a...that slur. I know it will never be enough, but I wanted you to know.”

They stared back at him, then Hermione said, “Well, I’m not sorry for punching you. Just so you know.”

“And you shouldn’t be. I deserved that and more.”

“Fair enough.”

“Fair,” Ron grumbled under his breath, then said,” I never got to punch you, but I suppose I can be civil now since Harry here has…”. He sighed as Harry looked pointedly at him. “You did good work on the project, Malfoy. Never let it be said I didn’t give credit where it is due. Hell, even my dad…”

Harry stepped closer to Draco, who said, “ Thanks, um...thank you...Ron.”

Ron smirked slightly, not quite able to say ‘you’re welcome’ and looked between the two of them. “So...is that why you are here? To apologize?”

“It was at the top of my list.” Draco answered sincerely but firmly. 

“Sorry to burst in on you like this. Draco has worked hard to earn respect, but he wanted to talk to you personally. We know this is a lot, and it will take time,” Harry said, breathing slightly harder. “But there’s more. There’s something we want to share with you.”

Hermione reached for Ron’s hand, and Harry met her eyes. 

“We wanted you to know.” He continued, then grasped Draco’s hand in his, watching their expressions. Other than widening eyes, there was no evidence of shock, no horrified gasps, just a speechless sort of acknowledgement. By the look of them, Hermione had already suspected, and Ron regretted that she was, once again, right.

“Draco and I are together. We have been for some time.”

Draco felt his face heat, but Harry’s confident, calm energy next to him stabilized him enough to smile at the two on the couch, who remained speechless.

“And we are on a date,” Harry continued, smiling. “So if you don’t mind...” He winked and started pulling Draco to the hall, and then it was Hermione’s turn to gape as she and Ron turned to stare after them. “...we will just be in my room. Oh,” he added brazenly, “and we aren’t using silencing charms...so plan accordingly.”

Draco couldn’t believe what they were about to do with parts two and three of the golden trio right on the other side of the wall. Despite the circumstance, or perhaps because of it, a delicious sort of anticipatory buzz flew through him, and he only felt a small twinge of guilt for being able to segway from his sincere apology straight to the bedroom. 

Maybe it was due to the electricity of being out together in a Wizarding establishment for the first time ever. Maybe it was their failed attempt to keep it casual looking and not caring. Or perhaps it was the thrill of Draco’s freedom and maintaining discretion had simply become unbearable. Whatever had prompted Harry to throw caution to the wind and bring him home with him to share their relationship to his friends in this manner, Draco was grateful for now, though he had agreed with some trepidation. He felt a huge hurdle had been successfully navigated, and though he knew it would take time and trust, he felt everything would be all right. 

As Harry continued to pull him confidently down the hall, Ron finally called loudly after them, “If you hurt him, Malfoy, I swear to Merlin will KILL you...you hear me?”

The only answer was a softly closed door.

After a moment Ron and Hermione slowly turned and looked at one another, then sat back against the couch. “Can you believe it,” Ron began slowly, more with a shocked sort of wonder in his voice rather than anger. “Right here in our own home?” 

“Oh...oh, Ron...” Hermione answered in a trembly little voice. He looked to find a hand on her heart and tears in her eyes. “I know Draco did and said a lot of horrible things to us. But Harry...he would never have brought him here like this if he wasn’t...if he wasn’t...I mean this was not a cavalier thing he did.” She looked at Ron, eyes still rimming with tears and love. “He is in deep.” 

Then, as some muffled moans started drifting through the walls, she leaned her face into Ron’s chest, and he stroked her hair.


	21. What’s Good For The Gander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, because I’m feeling just a bit guilty and defensive for Harry’s spontaneous decision. And perhaps the way I ended the last chapter reflects my frustration for the way some people have to hide their relationships. Let love, forgiveness, and freedom ring!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still reading, thank you!

As Draco rested next to Harry in their post-coital afterglow, their sweaty naked bodies under the sheets that only covered their lower regions, he still couldn’t believe he was in Harry’s bed. It had been amazing and a bit surreal, but...he looked up at the ceiling and listened carefully, but heard nothing but their breathing. He turned on his side and propped his head with elbow on the pillow, and began tracing a line on Harry’s chest with his long pointer finger. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly without looking up, “for...for trusting me enough to bring me here…”

“Of course,” Harry answered quickly, “I’ve thought of this moment for many a night…”. Then Draco felt his head turn towards him to watch him a moment. “Draco...are you ok?” 

“Oh...yes, I’m good, I’m...I’m just…” He let his hand rest on Harry’s chest, and felt Harry’s eyes on him.

“You’re worried about Ron and Hermione.”

He looked up at Harry then. “I just feel like we could have...you know...given them a bit of a heads up. It’s important to me...that your friends...that I gain their respect. Perhaps this wasn’t the best way…what if they see this as proof that I’m still the arrogant bastard they always knew.”

Harry lifted Draco’s hand, kissed it, then sighed. “Sorry, I...yes, we could have had the discussion we had planned. We would have sat down with them, and we would have had to deal with their reactions, and I would have defended you, and tried to explain how I felt, and...Hermione knows me, Draco...they may not fully trust you yet...but they trust me...and I can promise you they know it wasn’t arrogance that brought you here. But...I love you for saying that...and it just proves how far you’ve come...how far we’ve come.”

They smiled softly at each other, then Draco rested his head in Harry’s neck. “So what happens after today? The cat is kind of out of the bag,” he chuckled. “A muggle phrase I learned from my studies.”

“If you are ready...I’m thinking of a surprise coming out party...we could have it at the old Black house that was left to me. I would need to spruce it up a bit...but we would both invite whoever we wanted, and wouldn’t it be something…”

Draco chuckled. “Yes, we could set a date for it..and then still be seen...as “friends” until then like we had planned. The party might not be that big of a surprise, but it would lend a certain plausible deniability to the length of our...courtship...just in case.”

“Then it’s all settled.” Harry reached down to kiss him, but as their lips met, a distant banging interrupted them. They looked up to listen and then a muffled moan drifted through the walls, a very distinctive “Mione!”

Draco exchanged sheepish grins with Harry, then flopped back against the bed.

A very high-pitched gasp followed, and Draco pulled his pillow to cover his red face. “Oh Merlin.”

As the sounds of an unsilenced, very enjoyable romp session continued to filter through, Draco heard Harry mutter “thats it” as he turned to reach for his wand on the nightstand. After a moment, the sounds disappeared, and Draco removed his pillow.

“I told you,” Harry looked at him with a grin.

“So...is this some sort of weird, bizarre double date?”

They both laughed, and Draco rested his head in Harry’s neck again.

“I don’t know...but I think breakfast will be very interesting.”

Draco smiled, and then they fell asleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
